


Heroes Without Capes

by Rubyleaf



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (spoiler alert: he can't), Don't let the lighthearted beginning fool you, I did NOT type them, Kimishita thinks he can do everything by himself, M/M, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Ooshiba is a darling, Post-Character Development, Third-year ShibaKimi, aka welcome to adult world, and not necessarily for the better, meaning they're kinda friends now, so much drama, there will be tears and drama, they still bicker though, wait where did those caps come from, when will anybody stop the drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 102,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyleaf/pseuds/Rubyleaf
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Ooshiba does care about his cranky team captain. So when said team captain starts overworking himself, he doesn't think twice before offering his help.





	1. Workaholic

Kimishita was a workaholic. Everyone knew that; there was not a single person on the team who wasn’t aware of his tendency to try and do everything by himself, a tendency that had only grown worse since he’d been made team captain of Seiseki in his third year. It was just his nature, and nobody seemed to mind anymore.

Ooshiba wouldn’t mind either, if it wasn’t for the tiny but significant fact that lately he looked a suspicious lot like he’d been overworking himself.

It wasn’t something just anyone would notice, so he didn’t really blame the team for not instantly realizing something was off, but to him it was clear as day. Lately Kimishita looked tired. Worn out, somehow. His attention span had grown shorter, and so had his temper; he would lash out at people for the tiniest slip-ups, only to grumble an apology a moment later, and more often than not he spaced out, quietly phasing out of the conversation around him to lose himself in thought or just stare holes into the air until someone made him snap back to attention. Every time things got loud or chaotic he would start massaging his temples as if fighting back a headache, closing his eyes for a moment that was just a bit too long to look normal, and ever since yesterday he’d been sporting telltale dark bags under his eyes, something Ooshiba had never seen on him in over two years of playing together. He was definitely stressed out, and as his teammate and partner, Ooshiba was pretty sure he knew why.

It was Kimishita’s overblown, stupid and completely pointless desire to be perfect at _everything_.

After all, who in their right mind would put a hundred and ten percent into soccer, school work, team captain duties, _and_ a job, all at the same time?

Nobody, that’s who. Except for Kimishita freaking Atsushi, who definitely wouldn’t manage to keep this up for much longer. Something had to be done, and it had to be done quickly, before the captain of Seiseki finally hit his limits and collapsed or got seriously sick.

Someone had to help. And by someone, Ooshiba meant himself– it was his duty as a vice-captain to assist the captain after all, and it wasn’t like he hated the grump entirely, not nearly as much as he had a year ago, even if they still couldn’t interact without bickering. Besides, Kimishita owing him a favor (or two or five, depending on how much he helped) didn’t sound like a bad thing at all.

So here he was, giving his brain some much-needed exercise, trying to come up with the infallible master plan to help his idiot of a team captain.

\---

Twenty-four hours a day simply weren’t enough.

Kimishita slumped down in his chair and sighed, allowing himself a few minutes of precious, much-needed rest. Lately his life had been buzzing like a beehive. Homework, exams, soccer, captain duties, university applications, scholarship applications, the store, housework... it was all slowly but steadily starting to grow over his head. Somehow everything was happening at the same time, due at the same time, had to be done at the same time, and here he was, running on his last breath as he tried to keep up with life’s leisurely stroll.

Sometimes he wondered if it was really worth it. Part of him was screaming to pull the damn brakes already; the more reasonable part of his mind was telling him to ditch the housework and ask someone to keep an eye on the team in his place, at least until the Category 5 hurricane in his life calmed down.

And still he went on. He went on against his exhaustion, against all reason, trying to juggle everything at once, putting his best into everything. If he didn’t give it his all now, he’d just regret it later. It was just for a short while, then it would all be over again. He’d manage. He wasn’t that weak.

Like hell he was giving up now. Not now that so many people relied on him, trusted him, not now that he felt so needed. Like hell he was disappointing everyone. Like hell he was letting them know his weaknesses. He had to be strong, and be strong he would, for his own sake, for his pride, for everyone.

So he went on. Multitasking, skipping meals, pulling all-nighters. He’d manage.

Opening his eyes again, he stood back up, rummaging through his bag for his textbooks and notes. He’d tried to finish his math homework during lunch break, but some of the first-years had come to him for advice, and he’d ended up helping them and found himself behind schedule. Well, it couldn’t be helped. He’d just have to catch up again now.

Taking a key out of his pocket, he unlocked the store door, turned the sign on it to Open, and sat down behind the counter, focusing on his homework.

It wasn’t too long before the door swooshed open, and the first customer walked in, making their way straight towards the counter. Kimishita sighed, put down his pencil and looked up unenthusiastically. “Wel–”

He stopped in his tracks as his eyes came to rest on a familiar figure looming over him.

_Oh hell no. I need a surprise visit from Kiichi like I need a hole in the head._

“What do you want?” he asked sharply, eyes pointedly focused on the math textbook. “Whatever it is, you better make it quick or else–”

“Wow, is that a way to welcome the team’s ace, Captain?” Kiichi’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Forgot that Seiseki’s only winning thanks to me? Where’s my respect, huh?”

Kimishita swallowed down the annoyance rising in his blood, forcing himself to keep his cool and focus on his homework. “Probably in the same place as your sense of realism,” he shot back, glaring at his notebook instead of Kiichi. “Do me the favor and go look for both.” He pointed towards the door. “Outside!”

“Kicking me out, asshole?” Kiichi’s voice was growing more irritated by the second. “You can’t kick me out! I’m a customer!”

“If you’re a customer, buy something and go home!”

“If I’m a customer, your customer service sucks!” Kiichi gave an annoyed huff and leaned forward, snatching the notebook and textbook from Kimishita’s hands and holding them out of his reach. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, moron!”

“Ah? Don’t talk to people who are busy!” Screw keeping his cool, Kimishita was getting seriously angry. “Kiichi, I’m giving you five seconds to give me my stuff back and tell me what you want.”

“Five seconds?! That’s not enou–”

“Four. Three.”

“Shut up!” Muttering a curse, Kiichi threw the books back down on the desk, reached into his bag and shoved something into Kimishita’s face. “I’m here to give you this. You better thank me, bastard!”

Startled, Kimishita stumbled backwards, eyeing the object Kiichi had given him. It was a bento box, one of those store-bought ones Kimishita sometimes got when he had no time to cook, and not a cheap one from the looks of it.

Why on earth would Kiichi give him one of those? Kimishita frowned, eyeing the box with suspicion, as if it could blow up in his face any second. “What’s this?”

“Food.” Kiichi’s answer was so blunt and obvious that Kimishita could almost hear the unspoken “duh!” in his voice.

Kimishita crossed his arms. “You don’t say! But why are you giving me food?”

“Well...” Kiichi fumbled awkwardly, glancing away to the side as he ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t eat lunch today, right? Here!”

_Suspicious._ Frown intensifying, Kimishita reached out and reluctantly took the box out of Kiichi’s hands, turning it this way and that as if looking for a hint on what was really inside. “You didn’t put anything funny in there, did you?”

“Wha-?!” A shocked expression crossed Kiichi’s face for a split second before turning offended. “Is that what you think of your own vice-captain? And here I was trying to help you, ungrateful jerk!”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you!” Kimishita shot back, getting angry in his turn. “And I never asked for your help, anyway!”

“What’s your problem?” Kiichi huffed, glaring to the side, cheeks tipping pink in something akin to embarrassment. “It’s my job as a vice-captain to help the captain, right?”

“So what, I skipped a meal! It’s not the end of the world!”

“ _You’re overworking yourself!_ ”

“What the...?”

Kimishita fell silent. Closing his mouth, he stared up at his vice-captain in astonishment.

Kiichi was right. But that wasn’t even what baffled him the most. What confused him so much was that his teammate had noticed at all, that he’d noticed all the hints and pieced them together correctly, coming the the right conclusion. Had it been this obvious? Or... had Kiichi been paying special attention to him?

And that still didn’t explain why Ooshiba flipping Kiichi, his eternal frenemy, the one guy he couldn’t talk to without insults and punches flying, had bought him lunch and come to the store to offer his help. Sort of.

One way or another, he didn’t like this. He didn’t like people getting all up in his business, making a fuss over his problems, _pitying_ him. Yes, he was overworking himself a little. So what? He had done stuff like this before. He’d be fine. There was no need for certain idiots to come to his place making a huge drama out of things.

Placing the box on his desk, he sat down, glaring at his vice-captain through closed eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Kiichi burst out, slamming a hand down on the desk and grabbing his collar. “I’ve seen you, idiot! You do way too much! You’re tired all the time and you keep spacing out and snapping at everyone and can’t handle loud noises, and look at those bags under your eyes! And _you_ try to tell me you’re fine? I’m not stupid!”

Kimishita tensed up under his grip. Kiichi was right, he was right about everything. He’d noticed everything. Every single detail.

Since when was Kiichi so perceptive?

And since when was he so concerned about all this?

Forcing himself to keep calm, Kimishita smirked, the cockiest, most mocking smirk he could manage. “Do I detect actual concern for my well-being, Kiichi?”

His vice-captain jolted back, blush intensifying. Eyes flashing, he averted his gaze, burying his hands in his pockets as he mumbled, “Problem?”

He wasn’t even trying to deny it.

Great, now Kimishita was blushing too. He wasn’t even sure why, but for some reason Kiichi’s words had shot through his chest, lighting his face on fire. Why was he so embarrassed? It shouldn’t be a surprise to him that Kiichi did care. Ever since last year they had formed a strong bond, and both of them had done and said more than enough to prove they cared about the other, even if it didn’t usually show. Was it because Kiichi had outright admitted it this time? Why couldn’t he handle one simple word?

Either way, he didn’t like this. Kiichi worrying over him. Kiichi trying to help him. This wasn’t any of his business, and Kimishita still had his pride. Part of him appreciated Kiichi’s concern, but the rest of him was annoyed. Annoyed at being thought of as weak, annoyed at being underestimated. Why wouldn’t this idiot just believe that he could do this by himself? He was fine, dammit!

Clicking his tongue, he stood up, picking up the bento box and shoving it back into Kiichi’s hands.

Bright eyes blinked down at him, surprised, confused and more than a little frustrated. “What are you–?!”

“I don’t need this.” Kimishita sat down, picked up his textbook, notebook and pencil and resumed working on his math problems. “And I don’t need your pity either. Go home!”

“Huh?!”

“Did I stutter? Leave.” Kimishita pointed towards the door without glancing up. “Now.”

A hand slammed down on his notes, nearly hitting Kimishita in the face. He still didn’t look up. Even without looking, he knew exactly what Kiichi’s expression looked like. He’d seen it too many times.

“Asshole!” Kiichi yelled at him, both hands grabbing his shirt, yanking him up to his feet. “What’s your problem? Just accept my help and thank me like a normal person, you ungrateful son of a bitch!”

Kimishita glanced up, dark eyes meeting Kiichi’s in a fiery lock of glares. “Let go,” he demanded, the last bit of patience evaporating from his body and going up in smoke. “Who do you think you’re talking to, huh? I can do this without you pitying me and getting all up in my business. And even if I did need help, I’d rather ask a mass-murderer than owe you shit!” His voice slipped, growing louder with every word, doubling over with fury. “Now get the fuck out before I kill you!”

“You wanna fight?”

“Right now I wanna strangle you!”

There was a moment’s silence. Both of them stood face to face, gripping each other’s collars, their faces only inches apart, distorted with rage, their eyes interlocked in an exchange of white-hot glares. Neither of them moved.

Then Kimishita’s vision darkened.

His head felt light. His knees softened, threatening to give way underneath him. His heartbeat was too fast and too loud, blood rushing in his ears as he staggered, clinging to Kiichi’s shirt in a desperate attempt to steady himself.

Damn, not this again. Not now of all times.

“Hey! You okay?” Kiichi sounded nervous, panicked even. His hands let go of Kimishita’s collar, catching his sides to keep him on his feet, gripping too tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs. “Kimishita? Hey!”

“I’m... all right,” Kimishita mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for his senses to recover. “Just low blood pressure. I’ll be fine in a sec, I’ve had this before.”

His words didn’t calm Kiichi down at all. “Before?” he repeated, sounding more shocked and worried than ever. “You idiot, I told you you’re not all right!”

“This is natural, moron! It’s got nothing to do with overworking myself!”

“All the more reason to help you then!”

Kimishita groaned in frustration. This was a lose-lose situation. No matter what he told this guy, there was no way he’d manage to talk him out of trying to help. Couldn’t he read the signs? Couldn’t he get that Kimishita just wanted to be left alone?

“Kiichi,” he sighed, fighting back a headache. “If you wanna help that badly, you could start out by leaving me alone when I tell you to.”

“But–”

“No buts. Talking to people wears me out. Especially talking to you, so leave already.”

Kiichi blinked, an offended look crossing his face, but his hands let go of Kimishita’s sides, allowing him to sit down.

“Need anything?” he asked.

“Privacy.”

“Anything else?” Kiichi sounded slightly annoyed and more than a little exasperated, but Kimishita could tell he was trying to reign in his temper. “Anything to uh... raise your blood pressure or something?”

Kimishita sighed again. He wouldn’t get around letting Kiichi help him now, would he? Great. Just great. Wonderful. Exactly what he needed.

...Fine.

“Coffee,” he grumbled impatiently, avoiding Kiichi’s eyes like the plague. “No milk, no sugar.”

Kiichi’s face lit up. “See?” he said smugly, smirking from ear to ear. “It’s not that hard to let people help you.”

Kimishita smirked back. “Look who’s talking! I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who keeps saying he’s fine and doesn’t need any help every time he’s done something stupid and gotten his ass kicked.”

“That’s ‘cause I really don’t need help!”

“Like hell you don’t! I started carrying around a first-aid kit because of you.”

“What are you, my mom?”

“Apparently, I’m your babysitter!”

Kiichi huffed in annoyance and turned around, ready to storm outside when he stopped in his tracks, remembering something. “Wait. Are you hungry too?”

Kimishita’s stomach growled before he had the chance to say anything.

Grinning, Kiichi walked back to the desk, placing the bento box down in front of Kimishita. “There ya go. Thank me later.”

And off he was.

\---

By the time the door opened again, Kimishita had wolfed down half the contents of the lunch box, finished his math homework, answered some texts from his teammates, and was feeling much less stressed out already. Despite the interruption earlier, he’d managed to get stuff done and catch up with his schedule, and just being overworked was definitely leagues better than being overworked and hungry.

The scent was the first thing he noticed when Kiichi entered the store. The entire room was immediately filled with the scent of freshly-made hot coffee, not the instant stuff Kimishita only drank because it was cheap but the delicious luxury kind his father would only make on special occasions. The scent filled him with warmth and energy, calling back memories from his childhood, a smell of nostalgia and days without worries.

“There you are, Kiichi,” he greeted his teammate, who was approaching him slowly, careful not to spill a drop of coffee. “I was this close to filing a missing person report. Where’d you get that stuff, Australia?”

“Shut up, I got stuck waiting in line!” Kiichi shot back. “Not my fault the granny in front of me couldn’t make up her mind. Here.”

Kimishita took the paper cup from his hands, letting the heat seep through as he eyed it with care and a slight amount of suspicion. If the scent alone hadn’t been enough to betray it, the brand name printed on the paper was a dead giveaway that this was definitely no cheap kind. “How much did you pay for this?”

Kiichi shrugged. “Dunno. Not that much though.”

He was an awful liar.

“How much?” Kimishita insisted. “I’ll repay you–”

“Don’t even think of it!”

Kimishita straightened, startled by Kiichi’s sudden outburst. “What do you mean, don’t think of it? I don’t wanna owe you–”

“I’m the one who owes _you!_ ”

Kiichi glared at him, irritation and embarrassment tipping his cheeks pink. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you really helped me get where I’m now, so just accept the stupid cup and let me repay you!”

Kimishita fell silent, gaping up at him in silent amazement. He had no idea what Kiichi was talking about, what gave him the idea that Kimishita had helped him in any way– to Kimishita’s knowledge, he only had himself to thank, and all he’d needed was a little nudging and motivation to get his head up from where it’d been resting on his laurels. But still, he was moved. Moved that what little he had done had not gone unnoticed. Moved that his advice, his occasional nudging, had been appreciated.

Hiding a smile, he brought the cup to his lips and took a huge sip. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled.

“Are we even now?”

Kiichi shook his head. “You’re gonna have to let me help more.” He paused almost hesitantly. “...Can I?”

Kimishita sighed in defeat. He was probably about to make a mistake, relying on the biggest idiot on the team like this, but Kiichi was right. He was still his vice-captain, and captains were supposed to rely on their vice-captains every once in a while.

And when had he ever been able to say no to Kiichi when he was this serious about something, serious enough to remember his manners? Those expectant, almost pleading eyes were weakening his resolve by the minute.

“Maybe,” he grumbled with a long-suffering groan. “If I can find a job you’re actually able to do.”

Kiichi looked offended at that, but kept his mouth shut for a change.

“What? It’s not like you can help me with studying.” Kimishita took another sip of coffee. “So do we have a deal? I let you help me out sometimes and you go home now.”

\---

Kiichi had only been gone for a few minutes when Kimishita’s phone rang.

He didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was. There was only one person who’d call him at this time of the day, or call him at all, instead of texting.

For a few moments he actually considered ignoring the call. Then he shook his head, mentally scolding himself. What if there was important news this time? Good news... or bad news. He’d never forgive himself if he ignored something urgent.

Reaching for his phone, he answered the call, ready to speak up when he was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice in his ear.

“How you doing, Atsushi?”

_Been there, done that._ He clicked his tongue impatiently. “I’m telling you, you don’t have to check up on me every single day,” he snapped. “I’m fine! You’re the one you should be worried about.”

The voice laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re a little too worried about this.”

“Anyone would be!” Kimishita shot back, swallowing as he braced himself for whatever he might hear next. Eyes straying to the door, hoping nobody would walk in, he held the phone closer, lowering his voice as he asked, “Any news on your side... Pops?”


	2. Deal

He was so not looking forward to today.

Groaning, Kimishita reached out from where he lay under his warm, comfy blanket, turned off the alarm and scrambled out into the cold room, ignoring the urge to stay in bed and go back to sleep. His head hurt. He hadn’t slept nearly enough last night, and his entire body was aching for rest. The three hours he’d had today barely counted as more than a nap.

Still, he couldn’t sleep now. He had to go to school, and to morning practice before that, and he couldn’t afford to be late. So he yawned, stretched, and shuffled off to the bathroom.

Kimishita splashed a handful of cold water in his face, looked into the mirror and sighed. His reflection squinted back at him, pale, red-eyed and sleep-deprived, a miserable-looking mess with dark bags under his eyes that seemed to have grown even more prominent since yesterday. _You need to stop,_ it seemed to say. _Forget Kiichi, if you show up to school looking like this the entire_ world _will notice you’re wearing yourself out._

Part of him wondered if he should take the day off. Just stay at home, catch up on much-needed rest and allow his body and mind to recover before facing the world outside again tomorrow. But of course that wasn’t an option. With the exams coming up he couldn’t afford to miss a single class, the team needed him too, and with the way sales were going he couldn’t allow himself to close up the store for an additional day either. Besides, Kiichi was still on alert. If he suddenly didn’t show up to school, his vice-captain would pay him another unwanted visit for sure.

_Kiichi._ He scowled at the thought of his teammate, shaking off the memory of yesterday’s visit. Kiichi had offered him his help, and Kimishita had reluctantly accepted it, but what would happen now? Would he actually try to do something? Would he make a fuss over how worn out Kimishita looked? Would he act as insistent and annoying as he had yesterday? The thought was enough to make his motivation drop. His life was stressful enough without the threat of constant human interaction looming over his head.

Still squinting at his reflection in the mirror, Kimishita ran a hand through his hair, reached for his toothbrush and wondered if investing in concealer would be worth the trouble.

\---

Ooshiba was early. That alone was a fact most of the team would have instantly dismissed as an April Fools joke if they hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, and yet here he was, ready to start practice fifteen minutes before it was scheduled to start, and twenty before he usually arrived. But today that wasn’t even the weirdest thing about his behavior. No, what was truly weird was the way he was standing at the locker room entrance like a doorman, arms crossed, looming over everyone who tried to walk in, tapping his foot impatiently as he stared at a point in the distance.

Ooshiba checked his watch for what felt like the ninety-fifth time, intensifying his glare into the distance. What was taking Kimishita so long? He’d always thought of his captain as the type to be over-punctual, arriving everywhere ages before the scheduled time, and now here he was, waiting as Kimishita took his sweet time and starting to seriously regret getting up at ungodly o’clock in the morning.

He just hoped Kimishita was okay. Maybe he wasn’t doing well and had chosen to stay at home, or maybe something had happened to him and he hadn’t made it to school. Maybe he’d collapsed or injured himself or– dammit, where _was_ he? What the hell was taking him so abnormally long?

His hand instinctively closed around his phone. He wondered if he should call, or at least send a text, just to check if Kimishita was doing alright, but part of him hesitated. The others were already giving him odd looks as things were, making a wide berth around him and staring at him with intimidation on their faces; there was no way in hell he’d show his worried side to everyone and their mothers. And knowing Kimishita, he’d probably just ignore his calls or texts, leaving him none the wiser.

So all he could do was stare into the school grounds, waiting for his teammate to arrive. And damn, he was getting impatient.

He must have been there for an eternity when he finally saw a familiar figure walking towards him, striding past people without a greeting, hands tucked into his pockets, avoiding eye contact. Ooshiba stepped forward. Kimishita ignored him, green eyes fixed on the locker room behind him, pushing him aside when he stepped into his way.

Irritation flared. Ooshiba gritted his teeth. _Trying to avoid me, are you?_ Like hell he was getting away with that!

_Here you stay. I’m not done with you yet!_

Turning around, Ooshiba reached out and grabbed Kimishita’s shirt from behind, yanking him back.

Kimishita stumbled backwards, coughing and spluttering and hissing a curse, spinning around to glare at Ooshiba with the ferocity of an angered beast. “What do you think you’re doing, bastard?”

Ooshiba leaned down, took hold of his shoulders and looked at him closely. He didn’t look good at all. If anything, he looked even worse than yesterday. His eyebags had darkened, his eyes were red, and his skin had lost its last bit of color, taking on a sickly, grayish hue. Ooshiba swallowed, worry and anger boiling up inside his chest. What the hell was this guy doing to himself?

Kimishita was still glaring at him. “What?”

“This,” Ooshiba replied, none-too-gently poking a finger against his forehead.

“Ah?”

“Your face!” Ooshiba stepped forward and slammed his forehead against Kimishita’s with all his might. “Do something about it!”

“I was born with this face!”

“You weren’t born looking like Halloween! What did you do to yourself?”

Kimishita glowered up at him, eyes flashing with fury. “Well, excuse me for living up to my responsibilities!” he snapped. “Come talk to me about working too much when you’ve stopped being a big baby who doesn’t do _anything!_ ”

Ooshiba recoiled, a stab of pain shooting through him. Kimishita wasn’t entirely wrong. He didn’t have all those responsibilities. He wasn’t a team captain. He didn’t have to do a job or housework. He didn’t care about his grades, even though he probably should. Compared to Kimishita, he was barely more than a child.

Well, so what! That didn’t mean he lost his right to have a say in the matter! He could still see the way Kimishita was wearing himself down to the bone and he’d be damned if he just stood by and watched it happen!

Seething with rage, he grabbed Kimishita’s tie, raising a fist, ready to strike and punch that attitude out of him. “What’s your deal?” he yelled. “You look even worse than yesterday! And you say I can’t get worried?”

Kimishita gritted his teeth, but the look in his eyes softened, glimmering with something akin to vulnerability for a split second before the illusion disappeared. Lowering his head, he sighed, pressing one hand to his temple. “I’m saying you should shut up about it,” he grumbled, sounding more exhausted and exasperated than truly angry. “I know I don’t look that great, but it’s not that much of a big deal. It’s not like I’m gonna start looking better if you keep bringing it up, anyway.”

Ooshiba let go of his tie, dropping his fist, lowering his head in shame. His stupid temper. Why hadn’t he kept it in check this time? He’d almost punched Kimishita, the very same Kimishita he was trying to help, the very same Kimishita who was already worn out and weakened enough. The very same Kimishita who thought his own well-being wasn’t worth worrying about.

He should calm down. He should try to keep a cool head about this, no matter how worried and furious he was.

“Kimishita,” he said, desperately trying to catch the other’s gaze, frustrated to find green eyes avoiding him. “How can I help?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “By leaving me alone and not blowing everything out of proportion.”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Your problem!” Kimishita turned and started walking away. “Not mine.”

Ooshiba huffed in frustration. “You promised you’d let me help!”

“I said maybe!” Kimishita didn’t even slow down. “Maybe can mean no! And right now it does, got that?”

“You promised... Captain!”

Kimishita stopped. Sighed. Clicked his tongue. Clenching his fists, he slowly turned around.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” His voice was deceptively calm, so calm that Ooshiba almost forgot about the storm of anger raging behind it. His eyes were glowing from the inside like hot lava, burning and scorching everything in their path.

Ooshiba swallowed. This wasn’t friendly bickering anymore. He was mad for real.

What should he do now? Should he run? Should he fight? Should he try to defuse the situation and apologize?

Kimishita stared at him for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes, and his fury evaporated as his expression softened and the hint of a smirk crossed his face. “Well,” he said, “persistence isn’t always a bad thing.”

Ooshiba gaped at him. Was he praising him now? What was going on?

“Cap...tain...?”

“...fine.”

“Huh?”

“Since you won’t shut up otherwise, I’ll be redirecting some tasks to you. Try not to give me any more trouble than you already do.” Kimishita extended a hand.

“Impress me, Kiichi.”

\---

To be honest, Kimishita wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. This was Kiichi he was dealing with here, and when Kiichi put his mind to something, he could only go at it with the full force of a steam engine. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. There was no way anything else could have come out of this.

But it was still annoying as hell.

He had no idea why, but for some reason Kiichi seemed dead-set on doing everything humanly possible for him. It started with offering to carry his bag (which Kimishita instantly snatched out of his hands because he wasn’t that weak, and he didn’t trust Kiichi with his stuff anyway), and it had only gone downhill from there, with Kiichi trying to talk to the coach for him, answer teammates’ questions for him, and generally do everything he wasn’t competent enough to do and failing miserably. Kimishita was completely spent from fixing his blunders alone.

The fact that they were classmates this year didn’t help at all.

Kimishita groaned, slumping forward and resting his head on his desk. He’d had it. He’d had it up to here. At least Kiichi had the decency to leave him mostly alone during classes, but in every single tiny little break he’d appear next to him like a soldier on alert, waiting for instructions. Honestly, it would be kind of funny if it wasn’t so incredibly, headache-inducingly annoying.

Now it was lunch break and of course Kiichi had turned up at his desk again, and Kimishita had sent him off on an errand to buy him a snack from the cafeteria. If he was honest, he wasn’t all that hungry, but it was a welcome excuse to get some personal space for the moment, and that was more than worth a few overpriced mouthfuls of food.

_On second thoughts, I probably should’ve sent him out to buy me Aspirin too,_ Kimishita mused, massaging his throbbing forehead. _Oh well, I’ll save that for later. This won’t be the last time he gets all clingy like that._

He had only had a few precious minutes of peace when there was a clamor of footsteps and voices in the hall, voices that he instantly recognized.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“’Course I am! This is definitely the right direction... or is it? I think it could be the other way too... But let’s try this one first, I’m sure this is the right way!”

“Liar! You’re totally lost!”

“So what? Let’s see you do better!”

Kimishita grimaced and buried his face in his hands. First-years. Marvelous.

The steps drew closer and finally came to a halt at the door. “See?” a voice said. “There he is! I told you I was right!”

“Just because you guessed right doesn’t mean you had any clue where you were taking us! This was pure luck!”

“Doesn’t matter as long as we found him, right? Kimishita-senpai!”

Accepting his fate, Kimishita straightened, glowering at the bickering first-years with the most intimidating glare he could muster. “What?”

The two jumped and yelped, and the taller one (Hino was his name, if Kimishita remembered correctly) immediately leaped back to hide behind his friend.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

He pushed his friend forward. “You talk to him, Komiya!”

“Like hell I am, you’re the one who wanted to talk to him!”

“I don’t wanna get killed!”

“Don’t be a baby!”

Kimishita started drumming his fingers impatiently, wishing he could screw his responsibility and kick the two nuisances out. Couldn’t they just take their eternal squabbling outside and tell him what they wanted and leave? They were wasting everyone’s precious time!

Especially his.

“Hino. Komiya.”

Kimishita looked up. The first-years jumped again, startled. Looming over them was Kiichi, a sandwich in one hand, his wallet in the other, pushing past the duo to plant himself in front of Kimishita, glowering down at them.

Kiichi placed the sandwich down on Kimishita’s desk and took a menacing step forward. “What business do you have with the captain?”

Kimishita cringed inwardly. _Oh hell no._

The first-years exchanged a confused glance. “What are you, his bodyguard?”

Kimishita felt the beginning of a headache pound behind his temples. This was just getting worse, wasn’t it? First the annoying first-years, and now Kiichi acting overprotective and ridiculous and horribly embarrassing. Blushing, he yanked at the back of his vice-captain’s shirt, trying and failing to get him to stop. “Kiichi, cut it–”

“Kimishita’s very busy right now,” Kiichi continued, ignorant of the state of his captain behind him. “You can ask me instead. Or tell me and I’ll give him your message when he’s less busy.”

“Ah... so you’re his secretary.”

Kimishita had enough. Jumping to his feet, he walked around his table, hit Kiichi over the head, and stepped in front of his overprotective vice-captain, facing the first-years. “Don’t listen to him. Just tell me what you want and be done with it!”

Kiichi opened his mouth to protest, but Kimishita elbowed him in the gut, leaving him coughing and spluttering. “Tell me.”

\---

Kimishita had been avoiding him ever since.

Ooshiba honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. He’d tried everything. He’d done his best. What else did Kimishita want? He knew he hadn’t done too well, but had he really failed that hard? Had he been so insufferable that Kimishita had decided he was better off by himself after all?

He clenched his fists, frustration boiling in his veins. What the hell was wrong with Kimishita? Even if he had failed, ditching him like that was nothing like him! This was the same Kimishita who had kept passing to Tsukamoto in matches no matter how many shots he missed. The same Kimishita who had passed to him until he overcame his mark. The same Kimishita who gave everyone a second chance, and a third chance, and as many chances as they needed to finally make it.

When had he lost that patience? Was it because he’d grown so short-tempered these days, stressed out and irritable?

Was it because he didn’t want Ooshiba to succeed?

The thought felt like a cold stab to his chest. What if Kimishita had just used his failures as an excuse to reject his help for good? He hadn’t wanted it in the first place. He wanted to be left alone, to face everything by himself, even if it meant working himself to death when he could just swallow his pride and accept that some people cared about him and wanted him to be okay, dammit!

Because Ooshiba did care. Despite all their fights, despite all their bickering, he cared about Kimishita. Kimishita, who had always been there when he needed him, who had always known what to say, how to help, who had always told him what he needed to hear and pulled him out of so many slumps, over and over again, who had faith in him and supported him, awkwardly, crankily, genuinely. Kimishita, who had always walked ahead of him, mature, diligent, strong, never bending, never breaking. Kimishita, who was more to him than just a teammate, or even his captain. To him, Kimishita was a companion... maybe even a hero.

It hurt to see his strong, proud captain reduced to this, a shadow of his former self, fragile enough to crack at the slightest pressure. It hurt to watch this pillar of strength crumble and be washed away by the waves. It hurt... to not be able to do anything.

Ooshiba closed his eyes, feeling like a lost child. The thought of something happening to Kimishita was terrifying, no matter how much he hated himself for being scared. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be afraid of losing one person... and yet here he was. Afraid. Because no matter how lame it was, how embarrassed he was at himself for feeling that way, Kimishita had always been his guidance, the one to keep him grounded as he reached for the stars, the one who had made him as strong as he was now. If Kimishita got sick, if he couldn’t play anymore... Ooshiba wasn’t sure what he would do.

The thought made him feel so small. So helpless.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. No matter how many times Kimishita protested or tried to avoid him. He’d do everything in his power to make sure his captain was okay.

So he waited. He waited during classes, when Kimishita made every effort to pointedly ignore him. He waited after class, when he was stuck helping clean up the classroom while Kimishita headed to practice. He waited all through soccer practice.

Then practice ended, and so did Ooshiba’s patience. He had to act now. If he didn’t, Kimishita would hurry home and ditch him for good.

Ignoring the confused looks of their teammates, he marched over to Kimishita sitting on the locker room bench, closing his eyes for a moment, and sat down next to him.

Kimishita stiffened but didn’t move. Knuckles whitening, his fingers clutched his knees, digging into his skin as if he was trying his hardest to restrain himself, to keep himself from lashing out at Ooshiba in front of everyone. “What?”

Ooshiba wanted to snap at him right then and there. He wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and yell at him to stop avoiding people who were only trying to help. He wanted to punch him in the face and knock some sense into him. But he didn’t. Gritting his teeth, he restrained himself. Forcing his voice to sound as calm as he didn’t feel on the inside, he leaned over and whispered, “Stay behind.”

Kimishita opened an eye, fiery green shooting cold daggers at Ooshiba, flickering with anger. “No can do.”

“Stay behind,” Ooshiba insisted, forcing to stay calm, forcing himself to keep his own fury in check. “Don’t think you can run away.”

“I’m faster than you,” Kimishita remarked, closing his eye again. “What you gonna do if I outrun you?”

“I’m gonna stop you before you can run.”

Kimishita scoffed, an almost amused look crossing his face. “I’d like to see you try.”

“You wanna go?”

“Yes, home!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, got up on his feet and started untying his shoelaces. “But fine, I’ll stay. You better not waste my time with this.”

\---

“So,” Kimishita looked around, taking in the locker room that was abandoned except for the two of them, “what do you want?”

Ooshiba wanted to keep calm. He wanted to appear cool and mature and reasonable, a person Kimishita would listen to. He really did.

But he couldn’t. Not with this bastard standing right in front of him, proud and unapologetic, like he’d never done anything wrong in his life.

“Asshole!” he burst out, grabbing hold of Kimishita’s shirt and shaking him. “Quit avoiding me like that!”

“Ah? After everything you did today you really shouldn’t be surprised!” Kimishita’s hands caught hold of his wrists, cold fingers burrowing into the bone, sending stabs of pain up his arm, but Ooshiba refused to let go. “Did you have fun going around humiliating me, huh? Did you have fun giving me even more work, like I’m not fucking busy enough without having to smooth out your failures?”

Ooshiba loosened his grip, stumbling back. He felt like he’d been slapped to the face. Had he really been that bad? Was this really how Kimishita had thought of his help? He’d tried to do his best... but had he really just been making matters worse?

“Wow, excuse me for doing my best,” he said half bitterly, half sarcastically, hoping that his voice didn’t betray how upset he really was. “What happened to you giving out second chances to everyone, _Captain?_ ”

For the tiny fragment of a second a look of guilt crossed Kimishita’s face, but the illusion faded as quickly as it came. “That was for the team’s sake,” he snapped, meeting Ooshiba’s eyes with a diamond-hard glare. “This is for nobody’s sake.” He took a step forward, eyes darkening. “You better quit trying to help me at school, Kiichi.”

Ooshiba froze. Horror-struck, he stared down at Kimishita, refusing to comprehend the words he had just heard coming from his mouth.

“But...” was the only thing he managed to get out. “But...!”

“No buts! Cut it out!” Kimishita crossed his arms. “You’re not helping anyone, moron! You’re just making it worse.”

_No. No!_

He couldn’t quit now. He had only just talked Kimishita into letting him help. He’d been so close... so close!

“No!” he yelled, throwing his last bit of self-control out the window. “I’m not quitting now! I’m gonna get this figured out, okay? I’m not quitting! Like it or not, I’m still gonna help you!” He flipped the middle finger at him. “ _Suck on that!_ ”

Kimishita looked puzzled for a moment, then he scowled, his face distorting in irritation. “You really are an idiot!”

“What’s your deal this time?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, massaging his temples. “Use your head for once, it’s not up there for decoration!” He averted his gaze, crossing his arms as if he was trying to steady himself. “I only said you should stop helping me _at school._ I never said anything about you quitting your help altogether.”

Ooshiba blinked, his anger disappearing within seconds. The only thing that remained behind was confusion, confusion and hope.

“Wait,” he heard himself say, stunned and dazed with disbelief. “Do you mean... I can still drop by your place to help you?”

Kimishita scowled even as an embarrassed blush crept over his face. “...Did I stutter?”

Ooshiba just nodded. Ran a hand through his hair. Nodded again.

He was relieved beyond measure. He was surprised and overwhelmed and more than a little happy, and frankly, he didn’t know what to do.

Following a sudden impulse, he reached for Kimishita’s hand, closing his fingers around his slim wrist. “Okay... then I’ll walk you home.”


	3. Afternoon

Kimishita stiffened.

Ooshiba instinctively tightened his grip on his wrist, mentally preparing himself for yet another pointless argument. “What?”

“Walk me home if you can’t help it,” Kimishita frowned, “but what’re you holding my hand for?”

Ooshiba jumped, letting go of Kimishita’s wrist like it was on fire, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. Crap, what had he been thinking? Nothing, probably. He should’ve been. Was he an idiot? Why on earth had he been stupid enough to reach for Kimishita’s wrist, anyway?

Was he blushing? Probably, judging by how hot his face felt. Not good. Bad. Very bad. He needed an excuse, or Kimishita might misunderstand the whole thing. Something... anything!

“Uh...” Dammit, his mind was blank. “Um... no reason.”

It sounded lame, but at least it was the truth. The truth was better than no explanation at all.

If Kimishita didn’t believe him, at least he had manners enough to not let it show. He just shrugged it off, walking towards the door and pausing after a few steps, waiting for Ooshiba. “I’ve told you a million times to think before you act,” he told him over his shoulder. “Well, whatever. Let’s go before you grow roots in here.”

Ooshiba nodded and followed, more than grateful to drop the topic.

They walked down the street in awkward silence. Kimishita seemed even less communicative than usual, stubbornly staring ahead, not saying a word, his expression unreadable. Ooshiba walked beside him burdened with the feeling that he should say something, but unable to come up with anything or get a word out. The silence seemed to suffocate him, strangling the words in his throat, becoming harder to break with every step they took, every second that ticked by.

If he hadn’t been so uncomfortable, Ooshiba would have laughed at himself. _Look at me, being too chicken to say a bunch of words._ What was he so afraid of? Nothing would happen if he spoke up. It was just silence, and he was Ooshiba Kiichi. He was stronger than a couple minutes of not saying a word.

“Hey,” he said, unsure how to follow it up, just trying to make this quiet awkwardness go away.

Kimishita blinked, seemingly snapping out of his own thoughts, and glanced up. “What?”

Ooshiba gave him a long look. Kimishita looked exhausted, exhausted on top of being tired, like someone who had run a marathon after not sleeping the night before. He needed rest, badly, but Ooshiba doubted he’d allow himself any. Knowing him, he probably thought he had other tasks to do.

“Hey,” he said again. “What do you gotta do when you get home?”

Kimishita gazed ahead, green eyes running over an imaginary to-do list. “Mind the store,” he said half to himself. “Homework. Study for the exams. Come up with a plan for teaching Hino and Komiya how to pass and shoot. Make dinner...”

“Wait,” Ooshiba interrupted. “You don’t have to do all that by yourself.”

Kimishita stopped, turning to fully face Ooshiba, his expression cold. “I know what I gotta do.”

“No, you don’t.” Ooshiba stepped towards him, crossing his arms as he fixed Kimishita with his eyes, giving him the most stern look he could muster. “You don’t have to study every day, you’re smart enough.”

Wait... that had been a compliment. Had he really just _complimented_ Kimishita? Well, it was only the truth... but still!

Kimishita gave him a pointed look. “And you’re an idiot,” he said, poking a finger against Ooshiba’s forehead. “I get good grades because I study. And I need those grades for college application, so shut up. Not everyone can go pro.”

Ooshiba felt a slight stab. Kimishita was right, of course. Not everyone on the team could get scouted and make a career as a professional soccer player like Mizuki had, like he himself was planning to. For him, soccer pro had always been the only option; there was no way he could become anything else with his poor grades, and he’d been attracting a lot of attention lately, so it was only a matter of time before he got scouted by a team. College application had never even crossed his field of vision. Kimishita, however... Kimishita was different. He was smart, he thought of the future, and he wanted to keep options open for the case that he couldn’t make it on a professional team in time.

Ooshiba couldn’t understand why. He was sure his captain would make it as a pro. He was one of the best players on the team, screw that, one of the best in the whole country, so what on earth was he underestimating himself for? Why did he still go around thinking he might not make it? If the scouts never noticed _his_ skill, they couldn’t recognize talent if it came up to them wearing a name tag in six-inch neon letters!

He didn’t say any of that, obviously. There was no need to humiliate himself any more than he already had. Besides, saying it out loud wasn’t necessary. Kimishita had known him long enough to know he thought the world of him, no matter how embarrassed he was to admit it.

So he brushed it off and went on. “You don’t gotta do the housework and watch the store though,” he suggested, refusing to let Kimishita tell him he had to do everything himself. “If you’re that busy, just ask your old man to–”

“ _Kiichi._ ”

Kimishita’s voice was enough to silence Ooshiba on the spot. His expression turned to stone. His eyes seemed to glow from the depths of his soul, flickering with anger and an emotion Ooshiba couldn’t quite understand. “Shut up.”

A chill ran down Ooshiba’s spine. This wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before. He had seen Kimishita angry thousands of times, annoyed, furious, but this was a kind of rage he’d never seen before. This was burning, scorching, flaming wrath roaring behind his eyes, intense and violent... and it was terrifying.

Ooshiba’s anger reemerged, anger at himself for getting scared and anger at Kimishita. “What is wrong with you?” he snapped, swallowing his fear and taking a menacing step towards him. “What’re you so pissed for, all I did was say you could let your dad help you! I’m sure he doesn’t like you working yourself down eith–”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Kimishita’s voice echoed through the quiet streets, startling a flock of birds, resonating from the buildings. His face was tight with anger, his eyes aflame with fury, but there was something else mirrored in his expression, something Ooshiba wasn’t sure he could name correctly... but to him it looked an awful lot like pain.

Had he said something wrong?

Kimishita blinked, startled by his own outburst. His rage faded from his face as he closed his eyes, focusing until he finally spoke up again, quieter but still annoyed. “My old man’s not home,” he snapped. “He’s on a business trip, so he can’t help me there. So shut up and mind your own business.”

_He’s hiding something._ The thought crossed Ooshiba’s mind before he could stop it. Kimishita wasn’t telling him everything; there was more than he was willing to admit, more than he was willing to share with Ooshiba or anyone. And going by the look on his face, it had to be something serious.

Damn it, he wanted to know. He needed to know. If it was serious, he _had_ to know, or he wouldn’t be able to help Kimishita. If there was some big problem his captain was hiding from him... he wanted to be certain of what it was. He wanted to know if he could do anything about it.

_Wait, don’t be rash._ Ooshiba swallowed the anxiousness rising in his throat, gritting his teeth. Trying to force the truth out of Kimishita would only make things worse, even he could tell. He wanted Kimishita to rely on him, to trust him, and there was no way he’d do that if Ooshiba tried to find out his secret by force. He’d have to wait and see and try to find out some other way.

Pretending to believe the story, he nodded briefly. “So when’s he coming back?”

“Dunno. Depends.” Kimishita resumed walking. “C’mon, let’s go. Or are you tired of walking already? We still got some way ahead of us.”

\---

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. Damn it all.

Kimishita ran his hands through his hair, splashing cold water in his face and cursing his terrible, terrible luck. Why did Kiichi have to bring up his father of all things? And why hadn’t he reacted better? His behavior had  _suspicious_  written all over it. Kiichi must have suspected something, he must–

_Calm down._ At least Kiichi hadn’t insisted on knowing the truth, so there was still hope. Maybe his vice-captain was still every bit as dense as he used to be, maybe he’d bought the story and that would be the end of it. Maybe he wouldn’t bring it up anymore.

Well, probably not. Nobody would be stupid enough to believe the owner of a small downtown store might go on a business trip, especially one that was as long as his old man’s current “trip.” Of course Kiichi’s idiocy was pushing the limits of everything Kimishita had ever known, but even he could only be that gullible.

But if he’d noticed, why hadn’t he confronted him about it? Was Kimishita overthinking things again, and Kiichi had actually believed his lie? His teammate wasn’t one to accept being lied to without a fight. There was no way he’d have noticed and not yelled at Kimishita on the spot. Unless...

He wasn’t trying to be patient all of a sudden, was he?

Kimishita snorted. The notion of the words “Kiichi” and “patience” in the same sentence was ridiculous. And he was ridiculous for considering it in the first place.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there?”

_Speak of the devil._  “I’m almost done,” Kimishita shouted back, splashing one last handful of water in his face and drying off with the towel. Squinting at his reflection, which looked a bit less pale but still every bit as worn out as in the morning, he put his glasses back on and opened the door, only to find Kiichi looming on the other side. “You should work on your patience,” he remarked, trying to shove past him. “Move. You’re in the way.”

“Look who’s talking,” Kiichi replied with a defiant smirk. “Because you’re so patient yourself, huh?”

“I got good reasons, dumbass! Name one human being who can stay patient while babysitting a whole team of soccer-head idiots.”

“Usui-senpai.”

“I said ‘ _human_ being.’”

Kiichi blinked, confused, unsure how seriously he should take Kimishita’s response. Kimishita jolted, self-consciousness snatching him from behind, a blush spreading across his face and down the back of his neck. What on earth was he doing? Had he really just made a joke? With  _Kiichi_ of all people?

When had he let his guard down so much? This was nothing like him. He didn’t usually make jokes, especially not with people he wasn’t completely and entirely comfortable with. Kiichi wasn’t even his friend, let alone close to him in any way, so when had he allowed himself to relax around his idiot vice-captain?

Averting his gaze, he tried to rush past Kiichi, but his teammate wouldn’t move. “Wait,” he said, brow furrowed in puzzlement, “you’re kidding, right?”

Kimishita shoved him aside with an impatient click of the tongue, lowering his head to hide his blush. “Don’t worry your three brain cells about it, you’ll just get a headache.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Kimishita quickened his pace, expecting a hand to grab him from behind and try to punch him at any given moment, but no such thing happened. There were only footsteps, and a moment later Kiichi fell into stride behind him, following him back down to the store.

_He really has changed._ Kimishita suppressed a smile, slowing down a step to walk beside his vice-captain. Last year’s Kiichi would have punched a black eye into his face for an insult like that. Even now Kimishita could tell he was mad, but he wasn’t acting on that anger anymore. He was restraining himself, clearly aware of the task that had brought him here, trying his hardest to be worthy of the trust Kimishita was giving him. Kiichi... was actually acting responsible.

“What’s that smile for?”

Kimishita blushed furiously, hurrying to cover his mouth with a hand. Had he been smiling? He swore he’d been trying not to. But in the end he’d lost control over his facial expressions... and what was more, Kiichi had caught him.

Could he please just descend into a hole in the ground?

“None of your business,” he snapped at Kiichi, still blushing like crazy. “Did you do anything useful while I got changed?”

“Sure did!” Kiichi replied with the pose and pout of a child who was falsely suspected of having skipped school. “I bought you lunch _and_ coffee, ungrateful bastard!”

“I’ve already had lunch.”

“One sandwich doesn’t count! You only ate half of it, anyway.”

“Do I look like I got time to stuff my face?”

“You look like you’re starving yourself, okay? All that work burns calories, you can’t go around working and not eating!”

“I’m amazed you know what calories are.” Kimishita gave a defeated sigh, walking down the last few steps and searching for the store key in his pockets. “Fine, I’ll eat. You go home.”

Kiichi gave him a puzzled look, then his expression shifted to anger. “Like hell I am!” he huffed. “I didn’t walk you here just to be sent home!”

“I’m amazed you’re still here in the first place!” Kimishita retorted, getting annoyed in his turn. “It’s not like you can help me with my homework, anyway!”

“...First-years.”

“Huh?”

“Komiya and Hino.” Kiichi descended the final two steps, coming to a halt right in front of Kimishita, towering over him. Kimishita felt the urge to step back and regain his personal space, but he remained where he was. He wouldn’t back down here. “Lemme teach them how to pass and shoot,” Kiichi continued, half pleading, half forceful. “I’m the ace! Who could teach them better?”

Kimishita hesitated. Kiichi had a point, but... this task had been entrusted to _him_. They had asked him, not Kiichi, because they wanted _his_ help. If he redirected this task to his vice-captain, he might disappoint them.

Frowning, he glanced up, meeting Kiichi’s expectant, hopeful eyes. “You, teach them?” he scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. You can’t teach for shit!”

“Asshole!” Kiichi burst out, an embarrassed pink flush crossing his face. “I’m a way better teacher than Mizuki-san, and he taught Tsukamoto, so shut up! At least _I_ don’t talk in sound effects!”

Kimishita groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Turning, he walked to the door and unlocked it. “Fine,” he said hesitantly. “Teach the first-years. But don’t come crying to me if you fail.”

He didn’t mean the last part, and he was sure Kiichi knew. Stupid and childish as he was, his teammate was a great player, and Kimishita trusted him with his life; there was no way he’d give away an important task to someone he didn’t have complete faith in. Kiichi would manage, he was sure of that. He just hoped the first-years would be okay with his decision. If he was them, he’d feel a little neglected.

Sitting down, he started working on his homework as he waited for customers to walk in, taking occasional bites from his lunch and drinking his coffee. Kiichi sat down next to him despite his initial protests, doing his own homework and scribbling down ideas and strategies for teaching the insufferable first-year duo. Kimishita couldn’t help cracking a hidden smile. It was nice, seeing Kiichi take something this seriously, especially something related to the team that had nothing to do with his own ambitions as a player.

Still, it was strange, having Kiichi staying by his side like that. What was he insisting to stay for? He might as well have gone home and worked on strategies from his room, to say nothing of his homework. Was he staying to watch Kimishita for fear of him getting dizzy or collapsing again? Was he trying to make sure he didn’t overexert himself? That was stupid. Kimishita could take care of himself just fine; he didn’t need this overgrown man-child following him around like a lost puppy, watching over his every step and fussing over him like an overprotective mom.

But the strangest part was that Kimishita didn’t even really mind. He didn’t like it too much, and it felt awkward, but he wasn’t annoyed by Kiichi’s quiet presence, not as much as he thought he would be. There was something almost comforting to it, having someone beside him in this big empty house...

He stopped that train of thought before it could pick up speed. No, he didn’t need company. He wasn’t lonely. He was tolerating Kiichi’s presence while he was here, that was all. He wasn’t taking any comfort from it. This guy was every kind of clingy and annoying, and if he had stopped minding it, it probably just meant he was growing used to it.

His eyelids felt heavy. The letters in his textbook were starting to blur, even with his glasses on. His thoughts slowed down. Dammit, the coffee wasn’t working. Either that, or the past week’s many sleepless nights were finally starting to take their toll on him for real.

He blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open. No, he couldn’t sleep now. He was trying to study. If he didn’t study enough, he’d fail his college entrance exams... if he couldn’t get into college...

No, this was pointless. He couldn’t concentrate anymore. He needed to take a short break... just refocus, rest his head on the desk, close his eyes...

Just for a few minutes...

\---

Kimishita slowly opened his eyes, trying to process where he was and what had happened. Oh right, the desk... the store. His textbook... right, he had grown sleepy and then...

He jolted upright, wide awake. Had he fallen asleep? Right here, at the cash desk of the goddamn store? When he’d been supposed to be studying and welcoming customers?

Wait, what time was it? How long had he been out– oh great, it was dark already. He must’ve slept for hours.

Panicking, he frantically searched through his bag, trying to find his phone and check the time. Dammit, dammit, dammit! Hours lost of precious studying time... customers lost, money lost. Dammit, why hadn’t Kiichi woken him up? He’d probably thought he needed the sleep, but letting him lose precious time and money was even–

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes came to rest on something draped over his shoulders, a warm, soft, unfamiliar fabric. No, not unfamiliar. He’d seen this one before.

Kiichi’s jacket?

He took a look around. Kiichi had disappeared; someone had locked the store doors but left on the light, and from what he could see some items were missing in the shelves, a pair of cleats here, a jersey there. Lying on the counter were several receipts, showing everything that had been sold. The cash register was fuller than he’d remembered it to be before too... it must have been quite a busy night.

Had Kiichi done all this? Had he done Kimishita’s job for him and welcomed the customers in his stead while he’d been here sleeping? Had he covered him with his jacket and gone home without it even though it was cold in the evening?

A pang of guilt shot through him. He had made Kiichi do all this... things that were supposed to be _his_ job. Kiichi had worked hard and done everything for him while he’d been here, ignoring his responsibilities. And to think he’d even left his jacket here... he’d catch a cold! What had he done?

But at the same time, his chest felt warm. Kiichi had helped him. He’d been so kind and selfless and done so much for him, things nobody had asked him to do, things he didn’t know the first thing about, just because he wanted to help. Without him, he would have been lost. If Kiichi hadn’t been there...

He was grateful. So unbearably grateful. What had he done to deserve this kindness?

Burying his nose in the fabric of Kiichi’s jacket, he took out his phone, typing a message. He needed to thank Kiichi, embarrassing as it was. He owed him that much.

_Thanks for today._

Kiichi’s reply was almost immediate. _np._

Kimishita shook his head and sighed. He’d have to return that jacket to him tomorrow.


	4. Gossip

In retrospect, walking home without his jacket hadn’t exactly been the brightest idea Ooshiba ever had. It had helped Kimishita, sure, but it had also been much colder than expected, and his running nose had been attesting to it ever since he woke up this morning. Sneezing for what had to be the umpteenth time that day, he buried his hands in his pockets and groaned. He just hoped he wouldn’t run out of tissues.

Oh well, they did say that no good deed goes unpunished. He may have caught a bit of a cold, but at least he’d prevented Kimishita from catching one, and in his weakened state, his captain would definitely have gotten sicker than he was. Runny nose or no, Ooshiba knew he had done the right thing.

He just hoped he’d see his jacket again sometime soon. It _was_ kind of cold without it.

Lapsing into a jog to warm himself up, he crossed the remaining distance to school, hurried towards the changing room and opened the door, only to be immediately welcomed by a familiar voice. A very angry familiar voice.

“ _Kiichi, you bastard!_ ”

Before he could truly process what was going on or why the hell Kimishita was mad at him, Ooshiba watched the captain storm over to him and found something roughly shoved into his arms. His jacket?

“Wait,” he ventured, “what’s–”

“Are you an idiot?” Kimishita snapped, drawing himself up in front of him. “Who said you could go out without your jacket in the evening, huh? Nights are getting cold, moron! You’ll get sick!”

Ooshiba returned his glare, anger rising in his blood, awakened by Kimishita’s pointless fury. “Well, I’m sorry for helping! What should I have done, let you sleep by yourself without a blanket or anything?”

“Better than leaving your jacket behind, my place isn’t that cold! What if you catch a cold and can’t play, did you think about that? What pathetic ace can’t play in a match ‘cause he has a cold?”

“What pathetic ace would let his captain catch a cold?” Ooshiba retorted, angry and upset at Kimishita’s ungrateful attitude. He’d done so much for him and _this_ was his response? “What’s with you acting so pissed all of a sudden, anyway? You thanked me last night!”

“I can still be pissed about you not taking care of yourself!”

“Oh yeah? Look who’s talking–”

“You guys are such good friends,” Kazama remarked from the back of the room.

They froze, suddenly aware of their surroundings. They were still in the locker room, and the entire team had witnessed their argument.

“We’re not friends!” they burst out in unison, blushing profusely. Turning to glare at the other, they both added, “Don’t imitate me!”

Kazama laughed. “Sure, you’re totally not friends!” he continued, ignoring the icy glares the captain and vice-captain sent his way. “You’re more of an old married couple.”

“Wha-?!” For a moment Ooshiba and Kimishita were so baffled they forgot to glare.

“What? I mean, what’s with Kiichiman leaving his jacket at Kimishita-kun’s yesterday evening and Kimishita-kun returning it to him like a scolding mom?”

Kimishita cracked his knuckles. “Kazama,” he growled, oozing fury from every pore. “Shut. Up. Now.”

Kazama still looked perfectly unapologetic. “Don’t like being called the mom?” He laughed again. “It’s true though, you’ve become a total team mo– _ow!_ What the hell, Tsukushi?!”

Tsukamoto had caught hold of his boyfriend’s arm, hurriedly dragging him towards the door to the field. “Kazama-kun, y-you should really apologize... Kimishita-senpai looks _really_ mad... and Ooshiba-senpai too...”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, guys.” Everyone in the room relaxed, mentally thanking Tsukamoto when Kazama opened that stupid mouth of his again. “Actually, wait a sec. Kiichiman, why were you at Kimishita-kun’s anyway?”

“That’s really none of our business, Kazama-kun–”

“And Kimishita-kun,” Kazama turned around as Tsukamoto tried to pull him through the door, “what did you thank him for... _last night?_ ”

He winked, wiggled an eyebrow, and disappeared after his boyfriend.

Ooshiba blushed furiously. Crap. Crap, crap, double crap. Out of context, their argument had come out completely wrong, wrong on so many levels. It had sounded like a couple’s spat. And Kazama may be a pervert, but if he had thought of this, who else had?

“Shut up!” he yelled at their teammates, who were still eyeing their captain and vice-captain with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Kimishita was standing next to him, blushing bright red and fuming with rage. “That damn Kazama...”

Ooshiba let a murderous smirk cross his face. “Want me to kill him?”

“No, thanks.” Kimishita’s eyes were dark with fury. “I really want the pleasure of doing that myself.”

\---

That had been this morning, and Kimishita was still dying with embarrassment. Apparently someone on the team hadn’t been able to keep his godforsaken mouth shut, and now the school was buzzing with rumors. And it was a hundred percent his and Kiichi’s fault.

Why hadn’t they realized this earlier? To any outsider, he and Kiichi had looked exactly like a couple arguing. He didn’t know what embarrassed him more, accidentally revealing yesterday’s visit or Kazama turning Kiichi’s words into an all-too-easy innuendo.

He clenched his fists. That goddamn Kazama. He should’ve known that this idiot would interpret things all wrong and start teasing them... he should’ve known not to say whatever he wanted in front of a guy like him! Or anyone else on the team... or anyone at all. In retrospect, anyone would’ve misunderstood. If he had been in the team’s place, Kimishita would probably have mistaken their argument for a lovers’ quarrel himself.

Lovers... he and Kiichi?

Now that he considered it, that notion had never crossed his mind before. He had felt many things towards Kiichi over the years– hatred, rivalry, trust, pride, something akin to friendship– but love?

He let his eyes stray to his vice-captain, who was sitting at the very back of the class, pretending to be paying attention while not-so-subtly spacing out and probably thinking about soccer or the next meal. _Lovers,_ he thought, watching him in consideration. The others could see it, apparently, or at least Kazama could. Kimishita couldn’t imagine it at all. He had no idea how on earth Kazama could see a possible relationship between them, even as a joke, when they couldn’t even communicate off the pitch without arguing. Not that Kimishita had any experience, but he was pretty sure constant bickering wasn’t the healthiest thing to base a relationship on.

And now they had the mess, people thought they were dating, and Kimishita would brush it off and ignore it, embarrassing as it was, if it wasn’t for Kiichi. Kiichi had looked so shocked and furious and terribly flustered at every mention of the rumor that it made Kimishita embarrassed too. For his sake alone, they had to prove this rumor wrong before it got too big.

Reaching into his bag, he took out his phone, careful not to be caught, and started typing a message. _We should probably start watching how we act in front of people. If they catch us acting “like a couple” again..._

Kiichi blinked, reached into his pocket and read the message, scowling. Shooting a very unsubtle glare in Kimishita’s direction, he typed in a hurried reply. _this stop helping me bs again? u just gotta use EVERYTHIGN as an excuse_

Kimishita looked at the message, then at Kiichi, then back at the message. His vice-captain looked angry and very much convinced of his own words, returning Kimishita’s glance with a no-nonsense look in his eyes. Shaking his head in confusion, Kimishita re-opened the keyboard and replied, _I’m not telling you to stop helping me dumbass. Just saying this cause you seem to mind the rumors so much._

Kiichi took out his phone again, eyes scanning over the reply, a hint of pink crossing his face. Turning his back in Kimishita’s direction, he resumed typing, sending three messages in quick succession.

_SHUT UP_

_IDC WHAT PPL THINK_

_I DO WHAT I WANT!_

Kimishita glanced up, trying to catch a glimpse of his vice-captain’s face. Kiichi had turned away, staring in the direction of the window, his face hidden, his whole body tense and angry. The back of his neck was flushed, glowing red, matching his hair. He was obviously flustered, Kimishita realized. Flustered and blushing furiously. And Kimishita wasn’t entirely sure why.

Did he even want to understand?

\---

Ooshiba didn’t need a mirror to know his face was glowing.

That stupid Kimishita. What was with texting him in the middle of class to bring up the stupid rumors? Was he so afraid of them spreading that he didn’t even want to talk to Ooshiba in public anymore? That was stupid!

He should’ve known, of course. He should’ve known that Kimishita would hate the rumors, that he’d get annoyed and embarrassed and do everything to deflect them. He should’ve known his captain wouldn’t want to interact with him anymore for fear of making people jump to conclusions again. But still... but still...!

Why was it even annoying him so much? Kimishita had already told him to stop trying to help while they were at school. How was this any different?

Maybe it was that Kimishita hated the thought of people imagining them together so much?

That thought hurt more than it should have. Why did it even hurt? They were only captain and vice-captain. They weren’t even friends, not really. Teammates, yes. Companions, yes. But that alone wasn’t enough to stab him like this. It wasn’t like he was in love with Kimishita, right?

...Right?

Well, he did like him. And care about him... and admire him... and want him to be okay. He wanted to spend time with him, play together with him, grow stronger with him. He wanted his attention, his respect, more than anyone else’s; and he hated it when Kimishita gave his attention to someone else, respected someone else more than him. And honestly... honestly, he didn’t really mind that people thought they were dating. It was embarrassing, of course... but it also made him a little happy, somehow.

Could that be... Was he...?

No, no, no, no, no. He wasn’t in love with Kimishita. Kimishita was an arrogant workaholic jerk who bossed other people around and had impossible standards. He wasn’t in love.

But he still hated it, the way Kimishita let those rumors get to him. He hated the way his teammate was trying to distance himself from them... and him. And he was so not having any of that.

_Just you wait, Kimishita._ He clenched his fists. _I don’t care about the rumors. I’m gonna stay even closer to you now! That’ll show you, idiot!_

\---

Kiichi hadn’t been joking when he’d said he didn’t care about the rumors. He hadn’t even tried to deflect them– if anything he’d grown more clingy. Ever since this morning, he’d been spending even more time at Kimishita’s side, sometimes offering his help, usually just standing or sitting down next to him for no reason, giving people the death glare when they gave him funny looks. He was acting like a spiteful little kid and if it wasn’t so annoying, Kimishita would probably have laughed.

But now that it was time for afternoon practice, he had something else to take care of first. Namely, he had a big, big bone to pick.

“ _Kazama!_ ” he bellowed through the locker room, making his underclassmen jump. “Who told you you could spread rumors around the whole school, you bastard?”

The suspect turned around, looking unfazed, if puzzled. “What rumors?” he asked, genuine confusion in his voice. “I’m innocent, Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita’s glare intensified when Tsukamoto stepped in front of his boyfriend, blue eyes pleading. “Kimishita-senpai, please don’t hurt Kazama-kun! I swear he didn’t say anything to anyone!”

Well, if Tsukamoto said it too, it probably had to be true.

Shooting one last glare in Kazama’s direction, Kimishita turned away, glowering at the whole team instead, who shrank away in terror. “Then which one of you did it, huh?”

“Captain, I’ve found the culprits.”

Kimishita turned around to find Ubukata standing in the entrance, dragging three panicking first-years along by their collars, ignoring their panicked whimpering and pleas for mercy. “It’s them.”

He gave them a look, and they all turned pale. “W-W-We’re very sorry, Captain!” they stammered, all three talking at the same time, making Kimishita struggle to make out the words. “We swear we didn’t mean to spread anything!” “Yeah, we just told our friends what happened and they totally misunderstood it and...” “We’re so sorry! We’ll clear everything up! Please don’t kill us!”

Kimishita glanced down at the shaking messes in front of him, pity outweighing his anger. At least these idiots hadn’t meant any harm... and it wasn’t really their fault anyway. It was embarrassing enough that they’d told their friends at all, but he supposed he couldn’t really blame them for that, could he? They were just kids after all.

With an irritated groan, he clicked his tongue, holding up five fingers in front of them. “Five laps after practice. And you better clear this shit up soon, got that?”

They nodded, sighing with relief. “Y-Yes!”

Kimishita turned around and was just about to leave and mind his business when one of the whelps opened his stupid mouth again. “But actually, Captain, if you don’t mind me saying... y-you’d actually make a good couple, you and Ooshiba-senpai!”

He had never lifted anyone up by their face so fast. “ _Ten_ laps!”

“Y-Y-Y-Y-Yessir!”

Dropping his terrified underclassman, he turned, rushing to a free bench, slamming down his bag and starting to change into his jersey. Kiichi was by his side in an instant, looking redder than his hair.

Kimishita closed his eyes and sighed. “What?”

No answer.

Kimishita opened an eye, giving his vice-captain a sidelong glance. “What’s the matter, Kiichi?”

“...stupid first-years.” Kiichi buried his hands in his pockets, pouting. “They just _have_ to make my job harder!”

Kimishita opened his other eye and gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about? Try making sense!”

“The rumors!” Kiichi snapped at him, giving him a sharp glare, his face glowing with embarrassment. “I just got you to let me help you and then they start talking and you try to distance yourself again, you jerk! Those fucking gremlins... it’s like they timed it on purpose!”

Kimishita’s confusion was growing with every word, along with his annoyance. “Ah?” He crossed his arms, glaring up at Kiichi. “I didn’t distance myself, stupid.”

“Your text!”

“I only sent that text because I thought you minded the rumors!”

“I minded them ‘cause I thought _you_ minded!”

There was a moment’s silence. They both gazed at each other in surprise, each baffled by the other’s words.

Minded them because he’d thought Kimishita minded? That was nothing like Kiichi. Since when was he so considerate of someone else’s emotions? Had he just feared that Kimishita would start avoiding him again? But they’d already agreed that he didn’t have to help at school... so what was the problem?

An unbidden image crossed his mind, a brief memory he had long forgotten about. It was in middle school... sometime in their second year. He recalled forming a sort of friendship with the team’s manager, and he recalled the team teasing him about it in their immature thirteen-year-old way. He remembered getting annoyed and embarrassed, yelling at them to shut up while his friend laughed it off.

Then Kiichi appeared. Kiichi, who was always the first to make fun of him and tease him about everything, had watched the whole scene in angry silence, clenching his fists and pouting and glaring at their teammates, unnoticed. Kimishita hadn’t noticed him at all... until he snapped.

Blushing and scowling, he stormed into the group, standing in front of Kimishita like a bodyguard, yelling at everyone and threatening to beat up anyone who said one more word. The others did. A fight broke out. Kiichi and a few others got suspended, but nobody dared to breathe a single word about Kimishita and the manager ever again.

Kimishita had tried to confront Kiichi about it, but he’d evaded the question, blushed and grumbled something unintelligible. The only words he had uttered clearly were, “Don’t you dare get a girlfriend before me!” Then he’d stormed off.

Maybe this was similar, somehow. Kimishita couldn’t quite draw the parallel; he still felt like something was missing, a puzzle piece he had yet to find, but Kiichi’s behavior was making a little more sense to him now. Maybe he’d just always been like that. Caring, an awkward kind of loyal, despite their neverending rivalry.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Kimishita sat down and started tying his shoelaces. “You’re an idiot.”

Kiichi continued to look at him. Going by the frown on his face, he was in deep thought, pondering some important question he couldn’t quite answer on his own.

“Captain?” he finally said, still looking uncharacteristically thoughtful. “So if you only mind the rumors if I mind, and I only mind them if you mind... does that mean we can both stop minding?”

Kimishita finished tying his shoelaces. “I guess.”

Kiichi’s face lit up with something akin to relief, a blush crossing his cheeks. “Okay,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his jersey. “Then we can keep acting like before?”

“Not in front of Kazama.” Kimishita got up, walking towards the door. “Just because I don’t mind people gossiping doesn’t mean I want more of his stupid comments.”

“Same here.”

“Did you just agree with me? You must be growing old and senile.”

“Shut up! What else should I have said?”

“Don’t ask me that like I know how your brain works!”

“At least mine’s working at all! So there!”

They entered the field, immediately storming off in opposite directions. “And by the way,” Kiichi called back over his shoulder, “you better wait for me again after practice, you prick!”

\---

So Kimishita hadn’t texted him because he hated the rumors so much. Well, he had... but not because he hated the thought of people imagining them together. He’d just been trying to be nice.

Ooshiba was glad. Truly, honestly glad.

Not that he wanted Kimishita to like the thought of them together or anything, not like that. It just would have been a huge blow to his pride to think anybody would hate the thought of dating him. He wasn’t in love.

No, he wasn’t in love. He just would have hated Kimishita avoiding him at school. He needed his help now, not just at the store after class, but in class too, no matter what else he kept saying. He needed to be watched all the time, before, during and after class, in case he collapsed or fell asleep again.

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks. Wait a minute. He could watch over Kimishita at school... and after school... but...

But what about the weekend?


	5. Uninvited

He should have seen it coming from a mile away.

He really should have noticed something was off as soon as Kiichi had excused himself from walking him home, disappearing to his own place instead, claiming he had something important to do. But for some reason he hadn’t; he’d been glad, believing he could finally have an afternoon by himself again, without a certain idiot getting all up in his business.

And now Kiichi was here again, on his doorstep, a suspiciously large backpack sitting on his shoulders.

Kimishita pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping this wasn’t what he thought it was. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” Kiichi replied, looking offended. “I come here every day, moron!”

Narrowing his eyes, Kimishita pointed at the backpack. “What’s with this, then?”

“That’s my stuff,” Kiichi answered like it was the most normal thing in the world.

_Oh great, this is exactly what I think it is._  “What kind of stuff do you even need at my place?”

“I’m staying here for the weekend!”

Why, why, _why_ had he not seen this coming?

Kimishita glared at him, stepping forward to bar the way in, one hand resting on the door, ready to slam it shut in Kiichi’s face. Helpful or not, he was not going to let Kiichi stay at his place for the entire weekend. There was no way he’d allow him in here, where he could so easily discover everything he’d been desperately trying to hide.

“Like hell you are!” he snapped, glaring at Kiichi. “What do you think you’re doing, inviting yourself into someone else’s house, huh?”

Kiichi clenched his fists. “Shut up!” he shot back, one hand reaching to grab Kimishita’s shirt. “You think I’m gonna leave you by yourself till Monday or what? So you can pull more all-nighters and eat less and get sick for real? Over my dead body!”

So he was planning to monitor Kimishita day and night. Less time to get things done. More distractions. And the constant threat of accidentally revealing something that would make him even more worried.

No way in hell.

“If you wanna watch me that badly, just stay here during the day!” Kimishita shouted, already knowing the battle was lost. Kiichi wouldn’t change his mind. “There’s literally no reason for you to sleep over, dumbass!”

“Then how do I know you’re not staying up till three in the morning and studying or some shit?”

“How do you know that during the week? Same difference!”

Kiichi blinked, taken aback for a moment. Then his stubbornness took over again, and he scowled. “Still!” he insisted, trying to shove Kimishita aside and brush past him into the apartment. “I can’t just leave you alone for a whole weekend when you’re like this! I’m staying, period!”

“And I’m telling you, go home!”

“I’m not going home! If you don’t let me in I’m sleeping under a bridge! How’s that, huh?”

“You can sleep on a plane to Argentina for all I care! Get your ass outta here!”

“Then what if I catch a cold or get robbed? I thought you had a responsibility for the team, _Captain!_ ”

Kimishita jolted, feeling a slight stab. Kiichi had a point here... but he couldn’t give in. No matter what happened, he couldn’t give in.

“It’s not my responsibility if my teammates act stupid or irresponsible,” he snapped, grabbing Kiichi’s hand and ripping it away from his shirt. “Now go home!”

Shooting one last glare at Kiichi, he stepped back and slammed the door in his face.

Except... it wasn’t fully closed. Kiichi’s foot was caught between the door and the frame, leaving it a crack open.

Kimishita nudged the door against his foot. “Move.”

“No!”

“I said move, you’re not coming in–”

“ _Please!_ ”

Kimishita blinked, opening the door again. Kiichi had moved his foot back, bowing low, his whole body tense and alert, his voice pleading. “Please let me stay here for the weekend!”

Kimishita sighed. Damn this guy. Damn him for knowing exactly how to get what he wanted. And damn himself for not being able to resist a sincere plea, no matter how much he tried.

But to think that a proud guy like Kiichi had resorted to bowing and begging... He really had to be serious about this. And despite everything Kimishita’s reason said against it this time, that did feel rather good.

Clicking his tongue, he opened the door a little wider, stepping out of the way. “Get up,” he said, lightly smacking his vice-captain over the head. “I hope you brought a toothbrush.”

\---

Being alone in someone else’s apartment was... weird, to say the least.

Not that Ooshiba hadn’t been here before, of course. He’d only come here the other day when he’d accompanied Kimishita home after school for the first time, and he’d also come to this place for a study session in middle school when he and a handful of others had been on the verge of failing their exams. But it was still unusual, unfamiliar compared to the store downstairs, the only place he’d ever willingly visited Kimishita at. And the last few times he’d come here he hadn’t been alone; his teammates had been here, or at least Kimishita himself. Being all alone in this place made him feel like an intruder.

Everything here was so small compared to his home. The ceiling was low, the windows and doors were small, the rooms were tiny. The room Kimishita had put him in, originally his father’s room, was just large enough for a futon and some drawers to fit in, with a single window facing the backyard. And yet, despite its size, it managed to look empty, with barely any personal belongings lying or standing around, like no one had lived here in ages.

Ooshiba shuddered. This room was creeping him out. It was as if the place was holding some dark, terrible secret, something he was only inches away from unveiling.

Shouldn’t there at least be some family pictures around? He remembered meeting Kimishita’s dad a few times, a simple, honest man who was nice to everyone and took great pride in his son, documenting each one of his achievements with his old camera. Where had all those pictures gone? Was he keeping them somewhere else where Ooshiba hadn’t found them yet? Had he taken them with him on his business trip? If he loved them that much and his business trip was this long, then maybe...

How long was that trip, anyway? What would make an ordinary storeowner travel for what had to be almost a week by now, at the very least? He could understand his own parents going to conferences overseas, but...

Where was that guy, really?

_You could look around._ The temptation was almost too strong to resist. _You could look through his stuff and see if you can find a clue. You’re alone. It’s not like anyone’s watching._

Like hell he would. Kimishita trusted him. He wasn’t about to break that trust, not now of all times. He was only supposed to be unpacking his stuff, and then he’d go back downstairs to join his captain on his shift at the store, just in case. Wherever it was that Kimishita’s father had disappeared to, he was sure his teammate would tell him eventually.

Hopefully.

\---

The shift ended without any major events. Kimishita sat behind the counter doing homework, studying, working out team strategies and frequently checking his phone for new messages, replying to every new one with an exasperated sigh. Ooshiba took over customer service, only occasionally asking Kimishita for help when he couldn’t find something. He tried taking over the strategies too, but Kimishita wouldn’t let him. He’d change his mind eventually, Ooshiba would make sure of that.

Now they were back upstairs, and Kimishita had disappeared into the kitchen after muttering something about being done for today and dinner. Ooshiba had offered his help but had been immediately shoved out upon setting foot into the kitchen, so he’d retreated to his room, playing games on his phone until the scent of curry called him back over.

Poking his head inside, he found that the scent had betrayed him, and Kimishita wasn’t nearly done yet, still standing at the stove and stirring a pot, his sleeves rolled up, his hair tied back into a mini-ponytail. Curious, Ooshiba stepped closer, peering over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Pops taught me when I was a kid.” Kimishita didn’t even look up. “Said a man has to learn it ‘cause we can’t always count on having a lady around.”

Ooshiba blinked. Was Kimishita actually giving him a normal answer for a change? Without insulting him, without getting mad? And was he really bringing up his father by himself?

Maybe now would be the time to ask all the questions that needed answering. Now that Kimishita seemed so uncharacteristically relaxed, maybe he’d tell something about himself, something about his father, about whatever it was that was really going on in this house. Maybe...

Maybe Ooshiba couldn’t get a word out.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to ruin the mood. Calm, straightforward Kimishita was a rare sight, so rare that he didn’t want to lose this precious moment. His captain seemed so different now. Older, more mature, as if he was twenty-eight instead of eighteen. His features looked almost soft now, smoothed out, without the slightest hint of hostility, dark eyes calmly focusing on the task at hand. He was so different from the boy Ooshiba had known since their childhood... cool, dignified, even graceful.

Was this how he looked like during moments of peace? Calm, focused... mesmerizing? Ooshiba had never seen him like that, not in all their years together. There was so much he still didn’t know about his captain, he realized. But this... what he was seeing wasn’t something just anyone would know. It was a secret known only to a select few people in the world, and now Ooshiba was one of them.

Kimishita turned to peer at him over his shoulder, the softness in his features disappearing in a heartbeat. “What’s the matter?”

_Damn, I’ve been caught staring._ Blushing, Ooshiba turned away, covering his face with his hand and glaring at the floor. “Nothing.”

“If you’re not busy, go put down some plates.” Kimishita gestured towards the cupboard, then pointed towards the table. “We’re gonna eat soon.”

Relieved to have something to do, Ooshiba hurried over to the cupboard, taking out two plates and placing them down on the table, across from each other. There were only two chairs, he realized. Did they never have any guests over here?

Was it always just Kimishita and his father, the two of them and nobody else? That sounded pretty lonely.

But how lonely was it now that Kimishita lived here all by himself?

Ooshiba tightened his grip on his chair, trying to force out the pang in his chest, the tight feeling clenching around his heart. Kimishita had been living here all alone, in this empty apartment, for who knew how many days. Nobody to eat dinner with. Nobody to talk to, nobody to wish him a good morning when he got up or a good night when he went to sleep. Nobody to come home to.

He didn’t know how Kimishita had managed so far. Ooshiba couldn’t imagine living like that. To him, it was terrifying.

“Hey,” he began, not quite sure what he was about to say himself. “Kimi–”

“It’s gonna get cold.”

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks, blinking at Kimishita in utter confusion. “What?”

Kimishita gestured to the steaming pots on the table. “Dinner.”

“...Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me! Sit down already, we don’t have all night!”

“Shut up!” Scowling, Ooshiba pulled back his chair and sat down, narrowing his eyes at the food. “Curry?”

“I’m sorry it doesn’t look perfect, Princess!” Kimishita snapped, reaching for Ooshiba’s plate to pile rice and curry sauce on it. “Eat first, bitch later.”

“Who said I was gonna bitch?” Ooshiba shot back. “But maybe your cooking deserves it, jerk-face!” He waited for Kimishita to finish taking his own share, then he bowed his head slightly. “Thanks for the food.”

Ooshiba waited a second, then he took a small bite, chewing carefully. _Not bad,_ he thought before he could stop himself. Kimishita’s curry wasn’t bad at all... except... what was that? What was this feeling spreading in his mouth and throat, making his eyes water and his nose run and...

“ _Hot!_ ”

Kimishita looked up from his meal, surprised. “If it’s this hot then wai–”

“That’sh not it!” Ooshiba felt like he could breathe fire, gasping for air as he desperately looked around for a glass of water. “ _Shpishy!_ ”

Kimishita continued eating without batting an eye. “ _This_ is spicy to you? That’s because you’re a sissy.”

How could he eat that stuff like it wasn’t pure fire? “I’m not a sissy!” Ooshiba burst out, trying to rub his eyes and wipe his nose and instantly regretting it when they caught fire too. “Don’t just sit here with that smug-ass face! Not everyone’s a fucking dragon like you, asshole!”

“Dragons don’t eat fire, they breathe it. That makes _you_ the dragon, dimwit!” Giving a sigh that almost sounded like a suppressed chuckle, Kimishita got up, made his way through the kitchen, and returned with a box of tissues and a glass of milk. “Here.”

Ooshiba blinked at the glass in utter confusion. “What’s that for?”

“The fat in the milk reduces the spiciness.” Kimishita sat down and resumed eating. “Old trick.”

“You think I can’t handle the spiciness? I’m not a wimp!”

“Just drink it!” Kimishita snapped, shoving the glass in his direction. “If you get a stomachache from the spice I’m sending your ass home, got that?”

Ooshiba gave an annoyed huff, reached for the glass and took a sip. The milk was nice and cool and wonderfully soothing, calming down the burning sensation in his throat and mouth and making him relax again. Kimishita was right, milk worked wonders against hot spice.

Looking up, he found Kimishita watching him from the corner of his eye, quickly glancing away when he got caught. “See?” he said in the direction of his plate, his voice lacking its usual smugness. “Told you it works.”

Despite himself, Ooshiba couldn’t help smirking at Kimishita’s face. His captain was definitely flustered, embarrassed to be caught caring. If this wasn’t Kimishita he was looking at, _maybe_ he would have called it pretty cute. Kind of. Just a little.

Kimishita must have noticed his smirk, because he glared up at him in between bites. “What?”

Ooshiba spoke before his brain could catch up with his words. “So you _are_ a nice guy, huh, Captain?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” Avoiding Ooshiba’s eyes, Kimishita looked down, the slightest of blushes crossing his face. “I hate milk. You just gave me a convenient way to get rid of that stuff before it spoiled is all. Now eat up or I’ll kick your ass!”

“Learn to take a compliment, ungrateful jerk!”

“Learn to shut up, moron!”

Sulking, Ooshiba leaned over his plate and continued eating, downing every bite with a sip of milk. Now that he could handle the spiciness, this curry actually wasn’t half bad. Screw that, it was good... delicious even. So delicious that he couldn’t stop eating anymore. One plate wasn’t nearly enough.

“Seconds,” he demanded, holding out his plate. “...Please.”

Kimishita looked at him in slight surprise, then he smirked, that infuriatingly confident smirk he always showed when he scored a goal against Ooshiba during practice. “Like my cooking, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba flushed with embarrassment. “Shut up! I’m just hungry, okay?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue and was just about to reply something when the gears in Ooshiba’s brain finally started turning. What were they doing here? Sitting together... alone... in Kimishita’s apartment... eating the food Kimishita had made for them... wasn’t that almost like... like...

_...a couple?_

Blushing furiously, Ooshiba jumped to his feet, pushing away his chair and hurrying out of the kitchen. What had he been thinking? He and Kimishita... no way, no way! How had he let himself act like that in the first place? He should’ve just convinced him to order takeout or something but this... this was so, so embarrassing.

“Hey, Kiichi!” Kimishita called after him, but he didn’t slow down. “Where are you going?”

“My room!” Ooshiba shouted back. “Thanks for the food!”

Closing the door behind him, he slumped down on the floor, hiding his blushing face in his hands. What the hell had been wrong with him? He should’ve noticed how embarrassing they were acting!

Embarrassing... why, exactly?

He paused, confused at his own freak-out. It wasn’t like anyone had been there to watch them. The only ones who knew about this were Kimishita and himself. Nobody would start any rumors about them unless they told someone... so what exactly was he so embarrassed about?

\---

Ooshiba couldn’t sleep.

Everything about this room felt strange, unfamiliar. The low ceiling, the empty walls, the lone drawer, the single window above his head and the moonlight peeking in through it, shining down on his face. Sleeping on a futon was uncomfortable; it was too small and too hard and the blanket was too short, making his feet poke out at the bottom when he tried to pull it up to his nose like he always did. Ooshiba wanted his bed back, his pillows, his gigantic fluffy blanket that he loved to curl up in until his mom barged in, yelling that it was high time to get up and he was going to be late again.

But that wasn’t everything. What really kept him awake was this whole situation. Here he was, at Kimishita’s apartment, his teammate sleeping in the room across from his, lying in the room of a man he’d only seen a handful of times and who had disappeared to who knows where, for who knows how long. Ooshiba felt out of place, like an intruder. He shouldn’t be here. He felt like the whole house was closing in on him, watching him from the shadows.

Ooshiba almost laughed at himself. _What the hell._ Since when was he getting intimidated by a small room and a bunch of walls and furniture? He was stronger than this. He was Seiseki’s ace; nothing could scare him.

But then why wouldn’t his heard stop pounding like crazy?

Groaning, Ooshiba tossed aside the blanket and scrambled to his feet, running a hand through his hair. This wouldn’t do. He had to cool himself down somehow, or he’d stay awake and restless all night. Maybe a glass of water would help.

Careful not to make any loud noises, he crept to the door, opened it, and was just about to turn the corner when a noise from Kimishita’s room made him stop in his tracks.

Ooshiba held his breath, listening carefully as he moved closer to the door, pressing his ear against it. What was that sound? Was that... Kimishita’s voice? Whispering frantically, giving small gasps, hiccuping...

_...Crying?_

Something was wrong.

Slamming the door open, Ooshiba stumbled into the room, worry tightening in his chest. Kimishita lay curled up in his bed, blanket pulled over his shoulders, arms wrapped around himself for comfort, his face curtained by his hair and half-buried in the pillow, his back trembling. If he had noticed Ooshiba coming in, he didn’t react at all.

“Kimishita!” Ooshiba whispered, slowly venturing closer. “You okay? Kimishita!”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He just pulled the blanket up to his nose, whispering something unintelligible that was interrupted by a quiet sob.

Ooshiba inched closer, coming to stand by the side of his bed, kneeling down to have a better look at him. Kimishita’s eyes were closed, his teeth clenched as if he was in unbearable pain, his movements hectic and restless. His face was stained with tears, tears that continued to fall from his dark eyelashes, running down his cheeks, soaking the pillow. He whispered something Ooshiba couldn’t catch, but it sounded frantic, panicked... terrified.

“Hey,” Ooshiba whispered, reaching out and gently shaking him. “Captain, wake up! It’s just a nightmare!”

Kimishita didn’t react. Ooshiba shook him again, less gently this time. It wouldn’t do. He was too fast asleep, too deep in his own dream to wake up.

_Fine. If you won’t let me help that way, I got another way to help you._

Following a sudden impulse, Ooshiba reached forward, wiping the tears off Kimishita’s face. Ignoring the pounding of his own heart, the heat rising to his face, he ran a hand through Kimishita’s soft dark hair, stroked his shoulders and back, gently caressing him in a quiet, reassuring motion.

_It’s okay, Captain. Whatever happens, I got your back._

Kimishita’s eyes blinked open. Wide with terror, they stared at nothing before calming down as he sighed, slumping into the pillow. “A dream, huh...”

Ooshiba pulled back his hand, ignoring the heated flush in his face. “Nightmare?”

Kimishita turned his head, only taking notice of his presence, although for some reason he didn’t seem surprised. “Kiichi...” he mumbled, sounding almost relieved. “Yeah, nightmare. Must be the stress.”

Ooshiba scrambled upright. “Told you not to push yourself, stupid!”

“That’s none of your business! Go to sleep.”

“But–”

Kimishita pulled the blanket over his head and groaned. “Good night, Kiichi.”

“...Good night.”

Frowning, Ooshiba left the room, closing the door behind him. Good night... like hell it would be. He already knew he’d spend the next few hours lying awake, worrying and panicking.

After all, what could possibly be so terrifying that it made the fearless Kimishita Atsushi cry in his sleep?


	6. Sunday

Kimishita woke up to the first rays of the morning sun tickling his face, gently calling him back from the realm of his dreams. Rolling over, he reached for his cell phone lying on the nightstand, checking the time. Still early in the morning. Perfect. He loved being up early even on his days off; if he had some free time, he’d rather make the most of the day than waste several hours sleeping in and doing nothing.

Stretching, he sat up, walking over to the window with a yawn and looking outside, gaze roaming over the empty street below. Without his glasses he could see every tiny detail in the distance; a pair of birds sitting in a small tree, a stray cat running off with a fish, a leaf spinning around in the air as it was being carried away by the wind. Kimishita opened the window, inhaling the cool morning air. Despite the bad dream he had last night, he was feeling well rested, almost relaxed. He had slept longer and better than he’d had in a long time, and it wasn’t just because he had gone to bed at a reasonable hour. After waking up from that nightmare, his dreams had been calm and pleasant, giving his troubled mind a rest for the first time in forever.

He wondered what had helped him calm down so much. Was it the fact that he didn’t have to juggle everything on his own anymore? The fact that he wasn’t all by himself in this empty apartment? No, that couldn’t be it. Overwork and loneliness were only side effects of the main reason for his troubled mind.

And yet... there had been something. Kimishita couldn’t remember it clearly, but even through his nightmare something else had reached him, a familiar voice whispering words of comfort and reassurance, a warm hand wiping his tears and caressing his shoulders and back until he woke up. Had that been part of the dream, or had it really happened. And if it had...

It didn’t have anything to do with Kiichi sitting by his bed when he woke up, did it?

A small blush crept over his face as he dismissed the thought. Ridiculous. Kiichi would never do something as openly affectionate as that, especially not to him. It must have been part of his dream. The fact that his vice-captain had been next to him when he woke up only meant that he’d come in to check on him, nothing else. It was just a coincidence.

Turning away from the window, he made over to the door and started sneaking towards the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise and wake Kiichi up. Knowing his teammate, he was probably still asleep and wasn’t going to wake up anytime before noon. Kimishita didn’t mind. As much as he loved mornings, he hated human interaction before he’d had his daily dose of caffeine.

The sound of a door opening snapped Kimishita out of his thoughts. Turning around, he found Kiichi standing on the doorstep, yawning and rubbing his eyes as if he’d only just woken up. “Morning.”

It took all of Kimishita’s willpower not to laugh out loud. Even after five years of sharing rooms at training camps Kiichi’s bedhead was still something else, red strands of hair randomly poking out in every direction like a weird combination of a star shape, a bird’s nest, and a sea urchin. The fact that his eyes were still half-closed and one of his socks was slipping off his foot didn’t exactly help matters.

But more importantly... why did he look like he’d barely slept at all? His face looked swollen, his eyes reddened and lined with dark shadows. And... “Why are you already awake?”

Kiichi gave another big yawn, not even bothering to cover his mouth. “Dunno,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Cover your mouth when you yawn, nitwit!”

“Shaddup.” Thankfully Kiichi was still too sleepy to yell, his protests coming in weak mumbles. “You’re not my mom.”

Making a dismissive gesture, Kimishita turned and continued walking towards the bathroom. “Go back to bed,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m using the bathroom first.”

To his surprise, his vice-captain didn’t even protest.

\---

At least he looked okay.

Slumping down on the ground, Ooshiba sighed with relief. Whatever had been wrong with him last night, Kimishita looked fine now, healthier and more relaxed than he’d seen him in a long while. So that nightmare hadn’t come to haunt him again. It had come to haunt Ooshiba instead, always staying on the edges of his vision, never revealing its true identity. He had barely closed an eye last night, tossing and turning and worrying, but it looked like Kimishita was finally well rested again. That was better than nothing.

Wait a second. If he’d had a nightmare last night... maybe it hadn’t been the first one. Maybe the reason why Kimishita had been looking so sleepless and tired wasn’t just because he kept pulling all-nighters or staying up till the wee hours of the morning. Maybe...

Maybe it had been those nightmares keeping him on edge?

Ooshiba clenched his fists, iron determination seizing his heart. He’d get behind this, he swore he would. One way or another, he’d find out what exactly Kimishita kept hiding from him and help him out of it. He was strong. He was Seiseki’s ace. He could do this.

But how?

He wasn’t sure. But he knew he had to. He’d come up with something, some sort of plan to find out the truth without breaking Kimishita’s trust, some way to help him where he obviously couldn’t help himself. It was his duty as a vice-captain, as a teammate and classmate, as a...

_As a what?_ Ooshiba stopped in his tracks. He had been this close to calling Kimishita a friend. What the hell was wrong with him? They weren’t friends. They were sworn enemies. Enemies who happened to care about each other a good deal, sure, but enemies nonetheless. Like hell he’d call that stuck-up, ungrateful smart-ass his friend.

Ooshiba didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the floor when he was finally roused by a quick, impatient knock. “Bath’s free,” Kimishita announced flatly, footsteps already withdrawing, marching back to his own room. “Call me over when you’re done.”

Standing up, Ooshiba opened the door, catching his captain just as he was about to disappear into his room. “Why?”

“Breakfast.” Kimishita took another step and shut the door.

Breakfast, huh. The next meal they’d share together like some sort of old married couple. And weird as that sounded, Ooshiba couldn’t really bring himself to dislike the idea.

Feeling more awake than he’d ever thought was possible at this early hour, he left his room, hurrying through the apartment. And for once he actually paid attention to the amount of time he spent in the bath.

\---

It had been barely fifteen minutes– a new speed record– when Ooshiba emerged from the bathroom again, fully dressed, teeth brushed and bedhead tamed. Torn between pride at his accomplishment and jitters at the meal lying in front of him, he walked over to Kimishita’s door, careful not to go too fast and seem overexcited. Knocking, he waited for his captain to open, struggling to resist the urge to tap his foot in impatience. He was not looking forward to this or anything. He just hated waiting for people was all.

Kimishita took a moment to open the door, and when he did, Ooshiba couldn’t stop the blush crossing his face. He had obviously just thrown on whatever; his shirt and pants were two different patterns that would already have been hideous each on their own, and to make matters worse the colors were clashing badly. On anyone else this outfit would have looked ridiculous, so how in the world did he manage to make it _work?_ How could anyone wear this complete fashion disaster and still look so, so... _so..._

He looked good. Ooshiba had no idea how he did it, but for some reason he looked almost... fetching. Maybe it was just natural beauty. Maybe it was that build of his, or his almost unfairly pretty face, or a combination of both. Maybe it was his hair, silky smooth waves perfectly framing his face. _Soft,_ Ooshiba thought before he could stop himself, remembering the feeling of those dark strands against his fingers. Resisting the urge to touch them again.

Kimishita looked up at him with a mixture of annoyance and slight amusement, leaning against the doorframe. “Done already? I’m amazed.”

Ooshiba opened his mouth to retort, but Kimishita moved past him, not waiting for his response. Grumbling to himself, Ooshiba followed suit, shuffling after him into the kitchen. He might be annoyed with his captain, but he also knew him well enough to know picking a fight with him in the morning was an awful idea, especially if he was still counting on getting breakfast from him. And irritated as he was, he was also starving.

Not saying a word, Kimishita took out an old coffee pot, filled it with water and started brewing his morning coffee. Ooshiba stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking a little disoriented. What was he supposed to do till Kimishita was done?

Kimishita didn’t look at him, but he must have noticed the state of his vice-captain nonetheless. Without turning or glancing up from the coffee pot, he flatly asked, “Coffee?”

“What?”

“Want some?”

Ooshiba scrunched up his face in consideration. He didn’t usually like bitter things, and coffee had always tasted beyond disgusting to him unless it was dissolved in lots of milk and sugar, something he hated to admit because it made him look like a child. He doubted Kimishita had enough milk and sugar in his house to make coffee taste good to him though, and like hell he’d drink it black like his captain did... but then again, after last night’s lack of sleep it might not be a bad idea to have a cup, just to keep himself awake. And part of him was just happy Kimishita had offered him something, a part of him that was growing stronger by the second.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Ooshiba fidgeted for a bit, still at a loss for what to do until he realized he could set the table while Kimishita was still occupied with the coffee pot. “Got any milk in here?”

Kimishita didn’t look up. “Fridge.”

“Sugar?”

“Table.”

“What about cups?”

Kimishita pointed silently at the cupboard.

“Wow,” Ooshiba said, smirking as he placed two cups and a bottle of milk on the table. “You’re still so talkative in the morning.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Can’t socialize before my coffee.”

“You can’t socialize _ever._ ”

“Especially not in the morning.”

Ooshiba almost laughed. Had Kimishita just _agreed_ with him on something? Normally the captain would already have been at his throat for that, or at least thrown a sarcastic comeback in his face to drive Ooshiba up the wall. Was he still too tired to argue? Was he not in the mood? Or was this another one of his possible jokes? Could Kimishita make jokes?

If the captain had any idea of the confusion he was causing in Ooshiba’s head, he didn’t let it show. Picking up the coffee pot, he took it from the stove and placed it down on the table, sitting down in his chair. “Done. Drink before it’s cold.”

Ooshiba sat across from him, watching in amazement and mild disgust as his captain poured himself a cup of the bitter black stuff, downed it in one go, and poured himself another one in less than thirty seconds. Hurrying before Kimishita could drink the whole pot by himself, Ooshiba poured a shot of coffee into his own cup, filling it up with milk and adding three cubes of sugar. _If I did this at home, Mom would already be bitching about cavities and diabetes,_ he thought, smirking to himself as he drank. _Living without parents can be pretty neat._

Wait, what was he thinking? It might be the case for him, enjoying his temporary liberty away from his parents, but how could he still think that with Kimishita around? Kimishita couldn’t just return home to his father when he got sick of living alone. His father could be anywhere, and Ooshiba’s gut feeling told him he wouldn’t come home again anytime soon. It was selfish to envy him. If anything, Ooshiba should feel sorry for him, having to do everything by himself, in the lonely silence of an empty apartment.

How much longer would Kimishita have to live like this? Ooshiba was only staying with him for the weekend. He’d have to return home tonight, and then his captain would be all by himself again, alone. It was alright to ask this much, wasn’t it?

“Hey,” he said, intently staring at his empty cup instead of Kimishita, “when’s your dad coming back?”

Kimishita looked up in surprise, then he lowered his gaze, glaring at his own cup as he took another sip. “Dunno.”

“Don’t know, or don’t wanna tell me?”

“I don’t know!” Slamming his empty cup on the table, Kimishita stood up abruptly, opening the store cupboard and peeking inside. “Toast?”

“...Yeah, but...”

“No buts! I got nothing else. If you wanna complain, go shopping.”

Ooshiba didn’t answer. His mind was full, his chest tight with worry. Kimishita definitely wasn’t telling him everything. Something was up, and the more he thought about it, the more he found himself feeling that it was something serious.

He had to find out somehow. He’d find out for sure. And then he’d show Kimishita and the world what a good vice-captain he was. _Just you wait, Captain!_ He clenched his fists. _I’m gonna help you out like a superhero! That’ll show you not to tell me important stuff!_

\---

It was still too early to open up the store, so after breakfast Kimishita sent Ooshiba shopping for groceries, writing down an extensive list of items to get that Ooshiba lost somewhere. Not that he cared; most of the items on the grocery list didn’t agree with him anyway, and even with the list he probably would have followed his gut feeling in the end. If Kimishita ended up complaining, he’d be prepared to explain each and every one of his purchases to him.

Hauling the bags up the steep stairs to the apartment, Ooshiba paused to take out the spare key Kimishita had lent him, only to find that he didn’t need one because the door was still unlocked. Slipping inside, he unloaded the bags in the kitchen and walked back towards his room, not really knowing what else to do, when a buzzing sound from Kimishita’s room made him stop in his tracks.

The buzz repeated after a few seconds, paused, and repeated again. Ooshiba crept closer. Kimishita’s phone...?

Peering through the crack of the half-open door, Ooshiba could see Kimishita sitting on his bed, putting down a book to reach for his phone lying on the nightstand. The captain looked at the caller ID, frowned, and picked up the call, holding the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a voice on the other side of the line, although Ooshiba couldn’t catch what it was saying. All he saw was Kimishita groaning in response, grimacing and clicking his tongue. “Is this really the time to quote Adele lyrics, Pops?”

Ooshiba snapped to attention. _Pops?_ Kimishita was talking to his father. His father, who had so mysteriously disappeared... maybe now he’d finally find something out.

_You shouldn’t do this,_ his conscience whispered in his mind. _Kimishita trusts you, and you’re breaking that trust and eavesdropping, you grade-A asshole!_

He shut it down. Curiosity got the better of him, and if things were serious, he needed to know. Especially if Kimishita wouldn’t tell him. He had to find out the truth, or he wouldn’t be able to help.

The voice in the phone laughed and said something in return, something that made Kimishita sigh in exasperation. “I told you I’m fine,” he said with strained patience. “If it calms you down, I’m not alone anymo– what?”

He paused again, listening to the voice before speaking up again. “I said I’m not alone anymore. Someone’s here to look after me.” The voice said something that sounded like a question. “No, some idiot from the soccer team.” Another short reply. Kimishita’s eyes widened in surprise, his frown disappearing for a second before coming back all the stronger, with a violent embarrassed undertone. “How’d you know?”

Another short answer, and Kimishita leaned back on the bed with a sigh. “You and your so-called guesses.”

He pressed the phone closer to his ear, rendering his father’s voice inaudible to Ooshiba as he frowned, listening closely. “He’s an annoying idiot,” he finally said, and Ooshiba felt a slight jab. “And mentally five but...” Kimishita’s voice softened, and the slightest hint of a smile crossed his face. “He’s trying. If he’s a kid, I guess he’s not a bad one.”

Ooshiba’s heartbeat sped up. Butterflies danced in his stomach. Kimishita had praised him... he had praised him in front of his own father, with a slight smile, in the most affectionate voice Ooshiba had ever heard him use. Actual, genuine praise.

Ooshiba couldn’t help smiling.

Kimishita’s expression darkened all too quickly, the brief glimpse of warmth fading into oblivion as he frowned. Brow furrowed with tension, his quiet voice sounded restless, uneasy as he asked, “But Pops... that’s not why you called at this time of the day, right?” He paused, swallowing. “Did something happen?”

For a moment he sat in silence, holding his breath and listening. Then his eyes widened. His face paled. His free hand clenched into the covers of the bed, knuckles whitening. His entire expression was painted with shock, grief, anger, denial, as if the worst of his fears had just come true.

Kimishita opened his mouth and closed it again, took a deep breath, then another one. Swallowed. Took another breath.

“Alright,” he said, his voice still shaky. “Thanks for telling me.”

He listened again, then he sighed. “Don’t say that!” he snapped, although his voice still lacked its edge. “It’s too early to give up. Maybe I can still do something.” A short pause. “Will do, as soon as I find the time.” Another pause. “Don’t worry, I already told you I won’t– what?” He listened again, scowling with rage and blushing with embarrassment. “Like hell I will! Say it yourself!” His scowl faded again. “You too. Yeah. Bye, Pops.”

Flinging his phone aside, Kimishita closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands with a sigh.

Ooshiba was still standing at the door, barely daring to breathe, desperately wondering what to do. What had he just witnessed? Something bad had happened, something terrible. Something that was bad enough to scare Kimishita Atsushi like this... just what in the world had his father told him? What had happened? Where was he?

What in the world should he do now?

Should he just sneak back to his room, pretending nothing had happened and hoping Kimishita wouldn’t hear his footsteps? That would be hard. The apartment was so quiet that he was surprised his teammate hadn’t already noticed the pounding of his heartbeat.

Should he stay? Kimishita would get mad at him for eavesdropping if he did. He still wouldn’t want to explain, and he probably needed some time alone right now. But Ooshiba couldn’t bring himself to leave him like that either. Kimishita looked miserable, desperate, lost. It made him want to comfort him, even though he had no idea how. He couldn’t stand seeing him like that. The look on his captain’s face when he received the bad news was ingrained in his mind, tearing at his heart from the inside. It hurt... to see him suffer.

“How much longer are you planning to stand there, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba jumped, nearly tripping over himself. “Wha– You noticed?” he spluttered, his face flushing with embarrassment as panic seized him from behind. “I mean– I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything! It’s not my fault if you can’t use your indoor voice on the phone, you moron!”

“Of course I noticed!” Kimishita sounded tired even as he yelled at him, but at the same time there was something odd to his voice, something Ooshiba couldn’t really explain. Did he sound... relieved? “You really need to work on your sneaking skills. Your footsteps wake the dead!”

“I wasn’t sneaking! I was just gonna go to my room when I heard you talking on the phone, big deal!”

“You were eavesdropping!”

“I overheard!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, rubbing his temples. “Fine,” he said in a calmer voice, sitting up on the bed. “How much did you hear?”

Ooshiba fidgeted awkwardly. “That you were talking to your dad,” he admitted, “and that he told you... something bad happened?”

Kimishita whispered a curse. “Too much.”

There was a moment’s silence. Ooshiba was still fumbling on the doorstep, mentally debating if he should go in or not. Should he ask Kimishita about the call? Would his captain finally tell him what was up? Or would he just make things all the worse? He had already breached their trust. Maybe now wasn’t the time...

Screw it. Screw it all. He’d ask and be done with it. If Kimishita wouldn’t tell him, fine. He’d leave and find out some other way. It would hurt to lose his captain’s trust, but it was better for Kimishita if he knew. How else would he be able to help?

“Your dad,” he said, stepping into the room, hesitating for a moment, then sitting down next to Kimishita, who briefly flinched but didn’t move away. “Where is he really?”

“...the hospital.”

Ooshiba blinked, startled. Had Kimishita just honestly answered his question? The captain had turned his face away, dark hair obscuring his expression, but his quiet voice and posture spoke volumes. He hated telling Ooshiba, he hated exposing his weakness, but he had still told him the truth. He was worried, so clearly worried. And now that he knew the truth, so was Ooshiba.

“The hospital?” he repeated incredulously. “What happ–”

“Car accident,” Kimishita cut him off. “He’ll be fine. Now shut up.”

Ooshiba frowned, staring at his feet. “When’s he getting released?”

“Not anytime soon.”

They sat next to each other in silence. Ooshiba still couldn’t bring himself to look at the captain. So Kimishita had been juggling everything on his own because his father was hurt, badly hurt possibly? Was that why he’d been so stressed, why he’d had a nightmare? That made sense. But it didn’t explain everything. What had shocked Kimishita so much just now? Was his father maybe not as fine as he’d like Ooshiba to believe?

One way or another, there was no way he was leaving Kimishita alone. Not with a burden like this, a burden Ooshiba couldn’t even fully understand. All he knew was that coming home to an empty apartment, knowing that your closest relative was badly injured somewhere, not knowing when he would come back sounded like a nightmare he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“Captain.”

Kimishita looked up, annoyed and exhausted. “What?”

Ooshiba clenched his fists into his jeans to steady himself. “I’m staying with you,” he declared, meeting Kimishita’s green gaze head-on. “Till he returns.”

Kimishita’s expression shifted from incomprehension to surprise to utter annoyance. “Ah?” he growled, giving him the death glare. “Are you an idiot?”

“Shut up!” Ooshiba burst out, iron determination glowing in his veins. “I’m not letting you live all by yourself in this empty house till who knows when, idiot yourself! I’m staying here!”

“Brilliant idea!” Kimishita’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Aside from my personal space, I’m sure your parents totally wouldn’t mind you disappearing on them like that!”

“I don’t care!” Ooshiba shot back. “Ever since big sis moved out my parents have been a pain in the ass anyway! I’m sure they won’t mind me leaving!”

Kimishita gave him a long look. “Ran away, did you?”

Ooshiba jolted, feeling caught. “’Course not!” he spluttered and turned away. “Only little kids run away!”

“What did you tell them when you went here for the weekend?”

“I told them I’ll be taking taking care of a sick friend,” Ooshiba huffed, pouting. “Problem?”

“Sick friend my ass! If there’s anyone sick in here it’s definitely–” Kimishita stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the whole meaning of the sentence. “A sick _what?_ ”

Ooshiba didn’t need a mirror to know he was blushing dark red. “Shut up,” he grumbled in the direction of his toes. “Everything else would’ve sounded even weirder, okay? And...” His voice shrank down to an embarrassed mumble. “It’s not like it’s all wrong.”

Kimishita’s voice was just as quiet as he replied, “Dumbass.”

“Dumbass yourself.”

“You just called this dumbass your friend, you oaf.”

“I guess birds of a feather flock together.”

“Say that again when you’ve learned how to write.”

They looked at each other. Ooshiba ventured a lopsided grin. Kimishita cracked a half-smile in return, sighed and got up, smacking him over the head.

“Fine,” he said, heading for the door. “Call your parents. If they’re fine with it, you can stay here.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like I can get rid of you, anyway.”


	7. Truth

“Get up.”

The blanket at Kimishita’s feet curled in on itself, groaning. “No.”

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita reached out, pulling at the blanket to reveal a messy head of red hair sleepily blinking up at him. “Get up already!”

“I said no!” A hand extended from under the blanket and pulled it back over the head, holding onto it when Kimishita tried to yank it off again. “Don’t wanna!”

“You gotta!” Feeling anger rise to his head, Kimishita gave the blanket roll an impatient kick. “Get up, you lazy ass!”

“Five more minutes!”

“Zero more minutes, we’re gonna be late!” Giving up on the blanket, Kimishita caught hold of the pair of feet sticking out from underneath it, pulling at them. A pair of arms extended from the sides of the blanket and wrapped themselves around the futon, holding onto it for dear life as Kimishita dragged the whole package across the bedroom floor.

“Kiichi...” he hissed, giving the feet an impatient tug. “Let go!”

“No!”

“Forget it, I’m not dragging your lazy ass all the way to the bathroom! Get up already!”

“Nope!”

“Get! Up!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Fine,” Kimishita said with a click of the tongue, dropping his temporary roommate’s feet to the ground. “Stay where you are, I’m leaving! Not my fault if you’re late and have to run laps!”

Turning on his heel, he exited the room and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. There was a rustling noise, and when he looked back into the room he found Kiichi sitting upright, looking more than a little startled. “Wait a sec, Captain!” he blurted out, annoyance in his tone. “Who says you get to leave by yourself if I’m late? Wait for me, asshole!”

“Oh yeah, because it’s totally not suspicious if people see us show up late _together!_ ”

Kiichi was on his feet in no time. Blushing, he stumbled past Kimishita, darting towards the bathroom, nearly falling over his feet. “Be right back!”

Kimishita followed him with his gaze, smirking. Part of him had already dreaded this morning; getting Kiichi out of bed had always taken nothing short of a miracle, and on Mondays it required black magic. He had woken up fully prepared to be late for morning practice and a lot of gossip and meaningful looks, but turned out there was no need for that after all. Who’d have known Kiichi could be persuaded by such a simple argument? He really was a child.

Returning to the kitchen, Kimishita finished making breakfast, listening to Kiichi humming to himself in the bathroom, probably thinking he couldn’t hear him. It was kind of nice, actually. Having someone around in the morning, some noise to break the quiet of the empty apartment. A little too lively for his taste, perhaps, but Kimishita couldn’t really find himself disliking it.

_I’ve missed this,_ he realized. Someone sleeping in the room across from his, struggling to wake up on a Monday morning. A familiar voice humming in the bathroom, optimistic and slightly off-key. Someone to share breakfast with, to talk to before he left for school. It had only been a little over a week, but now that he had all that back, Kimishita couldn’t help realizing how lonely he’d been.

Lonely? Him? That was new. He had never expected to feel lonely someday; if anything there had always been too many people around him, bugging and pestering him and getting all up in his personal space. He should feel the same about Kiichi now... but he couldn’t. Even to him, living alone was lonely after all. And Kiichi was... Kiichi was...

...a friend.

He smiled to himself. Calling Kiichi his friend was weird and embarrassing, but he’d get used to it. It felt good, somehow. True.

_How much longer can we stay friends this way?_

His smile faded. The thought hit him like a cold arrow to his chest. Yesterday’s phone call replayed in his mind, every word resonating over and over, echoing through his head. If he couldn’t find a way to help his father... what would become of their friendship? What would become of his entire old life? Would they just lose contact, like he always had with his old friends after separating ways?

_Don’t think about it._ He shook his head, violently brushing off the fears looming over the edge of his mind. _It’s not over yet. All I have to do is find a way to figure this out._

\---

If the others had noticed that he and Kiichi had somehow arrived at the exact same time, they had been wise enough to keep their stupid mouths shut. The first-years were apparently still traumatized by the gossip incident, as were most of the second-years; their fellow third-years preferred to stay out of the whole business entirely. Kazama had given them both a meaningful look, but Ubukata had covered his mouth and dragged him off before he could say anything. All in all the day had been uneventful, if exhausting. Kimishita hadn’t been able to focus much, his mind straying back to yesterday’s call over and over again, but he’d managed without raising suspicion. Hopefully.

Now school was over, and they were home again. They had bought takeout for lunch (Kiichi had insisted on paying, the idiot), and Kimishita was getting ready to open up the store when there was a very desperate voice from the basement.

“Kimishita!” Kiichi yelled from below, at the top of his lungs. “I think the washing machine’s broken!”

_Oh great, perfect time for something expensive to break._ Irritated, Kimishita yelled back, “What did you do to it?”

“Nothing!” Kiichi shouted, confusion evident in his voice. “I just tried to do the laundry and now there’s soap everywhere and all my white shirts are pink, I have no idea what’s wrong with this thing!”

_Uh-oh._

His face turning into a scowling grimace, Kimishita marched over to the basement door and stormed down the stairs, mentally preparing for anything he might see down there. If Kiichi had broken the washing machine somehow, he was so paying for it. Literally.

Kimishita had told himself that he was prepared for anything. But nothing he had imagined came even close to the view that opened itself in front of him.

The room was covered in soap suds. It looked as if someone had spilled a giant bubble bath over everything, the floor wet with a suspiciously slippery shine, the flowery scent of cheap laundry detergent heavy in the air. Kiichi’s clothes lay spread all over the ground, soaking wet and still half-covered in soap. His formerly white brand shirts had turned a pretty shade of pink, and standing in the middle of the mess was Kiichi himself, soap suds in his hair, an expression of utter stupidity on his face as he stared at the single red sock in his hand.

Kimishita took one look and snorted, quickly covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud.

“Kiichi...” he forced out through gritted teeth, struggling to keep a straight face. “What did you do in here?”

“Shut your mouth, okay?” Blushing, Kiichi flung the conspicuous sock in the corner and started stomping towards Kimishita. “You should be glad I tried to help you, moron! All I wanted was to wash my stuff, I mean, how hard can it– _whoa!_ ”

He lost his footing as he spoke. Slithering over the soapy ground, he flailed his arms around in the air, running on the spot for a second before very harshly sitting down on the floor, rubbing his behind and cursing.

Kimishita couldn’t contain himself.

He burst out laughing.

“Very funny!” Kiichi snapped at him, struggling to get up and failing, falling back on the floor. “I’d like to see _you_ try to walk in here, jerk-face!”

Kimishita just laughed even harder.

Kiichi gave up on trying to stand, opting to glare daggers at him from the ground instead. At first his eyes screamed murder. Then, little by little, his anger faded, a wobbly smile forcing itself on his face as he struggled to keep scowling, in vain. Then he, too, started laughing.

For a few minutes the world stood still. For a few minutes they were just there, in this soap-covered basement, without a care in the world, laughing till their sides hurt and their eyes teared up. Every time they calmed down they would look at each other, exchange a stupid grin, and a second later they were laughing again, clutching their sides and wiping tears from their eyes as they struggled for breath.

At long last they did calm down, and Kimishita slumped against the doorframe, still smiling and out of breath. From the corner of his eye he could see Kiichi grinning to himself as he tried to scramble upright, succeeding this time and finally shaking those silly soap suds out of his hair. Kimishita followed his roommate with his eyes, shaking his head. Kiichi really was an idiot, the biggest idiot he’d ever met. But not always in a bad way.

He should probably be mad at him. Kiichi had made a spectacular mess, flooding the basement with water and soap, and it would take ages to mop it all up again, to say nothing of getting the pink color out of his white shirts like Kiichi would probably insist. Kimishita had every right to be angry... yet he wasn’t. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, the way Kiichi had made a giant fool of himself, but part of him whispered that this wasn’t the only reason. He hadn’t just laughed _at_ his vice-captain, he had laughed _with_ him, together. There weren’t many people in the world he had done that with.

He was opening up to Kiichi, he realized. Without even meaning to, he had lowered his guard around him, showing him sides of himself he’d rather conceal from the world. His annoying, stupid brat of a vice-captain had somehow wormed his way into his heart, invading his personal space and getting all up in his business and calling him his friend and making him do stupid things like letting him stay at his place or cracking jokes or laughing instead of getting mad. This stuck-up idiot was changing him, and it was strange and scary... but it felt good, somehow. He couldn’t say he wasn’t happy.

_You idiot. What are you doing, getting attached?_

Kimishita froze, his smile fading in an instant. The voice in his head was cold and frantic, whispering a warning he didn’t want to hear. He knew. He didn’t have to be reminded–

_You know what Pops told you yesterday. Don’t do this to yourself. If your plans fail, it’ll just hurt more if you get attached to him now._

He knew.

_You’ll break your own heart is all._

He knew!

_It’s better if you distance yourself from him before it’s too late._

He knew, dammit!

He didn’t want to, but he had to admit his voice of reason was right. It always was. He couldn’t get attached now that nothing was certain. He’d just end up hurting himself.

The familiar scowl spread over his face, a mask of anger to hide the doubts whirling inside. “Kiichi,” he growled, making his roommate jump. “What are you standing around there for, huh? Go get a mop and clean this up, you useless dimwit!”

Kiichi blinked at him, surprise and the slightest hint of disappointment crossing his face, shooting a pang of guilt through Kimishita’s chest. Then he crossed his arms and frowned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Hey, what’s that for?” he mocked, glowering down at Kimishita. “You were laughing a sec ago, what’s with those mood swings? Used up your dose of niceness for the week? Or are you just on your period, Captain?”

_This is it,_ the voice in Kimishita’s head whispered. _This is how you’re supposed to interact. Everything else isn’t normal._

“Did I stutter?” Kimishita snapped, marching up to Kiichi. “You flooded this place, now get a fucking mop and clean up this mess!”

“At least help me, you jackass!”

“Like I have nothing better to do!”

Kiichi’s scowl intensified, and for a moment Kimishita expected to be grabbed at the collar and punched in the face at any given second. Then his vice-captain gave an annoyed huff, spun around on his heel and stormed out of the room. “Where’s the mop?”

It might have been Kimishita’s imagination, but he thought he’d seen the slightest hint of worry in his eyes.

Kiichi hadn’t guessed the reason for his sudden anger, had he?

\---

Something was definitely wrong.

Ooshiba frowned to himself as he continued mopping up the soap and water, glaring at his reflection on the wet floor. What was wrong with Kimishita all of a sudden? They had laughed about this accident together, so what the hell was he now getting all angry for? He didn’t get this guy’s damn problem!

What he did get was that Kimishita hadn’t simply shifted from a smile to a scowl. His captain probably hadn’t noticed, but he’d watched him and he’d seen it. The way his eyes had widened all of a sudden, startled, almost shocked. The way his smile had disappeared, leaving a look of fear and frustration and worry behind. The pain in his eyes as he seemed to struggle with himself before finally getting angry.

What had he been thinking? What was he so worried about? There it was again, this feeling that his captain was hiding something. There was something important he was refusing to tell Ooshiba, and it was driving him mad. Just what in the world was wrong with him?

The unbidden memory of yesterday’s phone call flashed through his head. The image of Kimishita’s eyes widening... the exact same way they had just now.

There was definitely something else up with that call, something even more serious than the things Kimishita had revealed to him. Yesterday’s call was connected to his strange behavior somehow, he was sure of that. And he had to find out what was wrong, at whatever cost.

And if Kimishita wouldn’t tell him the truth himself... he should just ask his father directly.

Ooshiba stopped cleaning, resting his back against the wall, deep in thought. Of course he didn’t know which hospital Kimishita’s dad was staying at, but that wasn’t hard to guess. There was a grand total of one nearby. He knew that place like the back of his hand; he’d been there many times himself, sometimes because of an injury, sometimes to visit his parents at work. People knew him there. If he asked the nurses to tell him what room a guy named Kimishita was staying in, he was sure he’d get an answer out of them eventually.

He just hoped he wouldn’t run into his parents on the way.

\---

Ooshiba still couldn’t believe he was doing this. He couldn’t believe he was here, skipping practice to go to the hospital and ask for a guy he’d only met a handful of times in his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made it this far, that he was here, standing in front of a door, trying to work up the courage to knock and go in.

Kimishita would be so mad at him later. He’d probably yell at him and punch him in the face and try to kick him out of the apartment and send him home and he’d have every right, Ooshiba knew that. But he also knew that he had to do this. He had to know the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he swallowed, bracing himself, knocked, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Almost as soon as he’d finished knocking, a voice spoke up from the other side of the door, warm and inviting. “Come in!”

Hesitating, Ooshiba opened the door and peeked into the room. It was small and neat, as so many of these rooms were; the curtains were opened, letting the rays of the afternoon sun smile onto the single bed. Lying under the covers was Kimishita’s father, smiling as if he was trying to rival the sun, one arm in a cast, several wounds on his face that had been stitched together. He looked pale but otherwise fine, nothing about him hinting at a serious, let alone life-threatening condition. Ooshiba allowed himself to relax a little. At least he wasn’t in imminent danger.

The man looked at Ooshiba with curiosity, visibly surprised to see him. Ooshiba fidgeted under his gaze. It was strange, visiting someone else’s parent at the hospital. Especially if their child wasn’t even around.

“Hello,” he said, just to break this awkward silence.

“Hi!” Kimishita’s father smiled even wider, beckoning him closer with his uninjured hand. “Come on in... Ooshiba-kun, was it? Atsushi only refers to you as Kiichi, so...”

Ooshiba nodded, stepping into the room, awkwardly walking closer to the bed. “Yeah.”

Kimishita’s father gestured to the chair standing one one side. “Take a seat, don’t want me hurting my neck looking up at you the whole time, do we? Why, you’ve grown even taller since the last time I saw you!” He laughed. “What brings you here, Ooshiba-kun?”

Ooshiba sat down, staring at his hands. Kimishita’s father really was a nice guy to the bone. Even with all his injuries he still managed to act happy and optimistic, as if everything was perfectly fine, but Ooshiba wasn’t fooled. Even through his smile he could see a shadow in his eyes, a hint of worry and sadness masked by silly jokes.

“I’m here because I’m trying to help your son.”

Kimishita’s father blinked in something akin to surprise, then his expression changed to understanding as he nodded. “Yeah, he told me on the phone yesterday. I’m glad.” He laughed again. “No, I’m honestly glad! Atsushi has always been the type to put more of a burden on himself than he can carry, just like his mom. I’m glad he has guys like you to support him.”

_He’s worried about his son,_ Ooshiba realized. _Of course he is. If anybody knows what a dangerous workaholic Kimishita is, it’s gotta be him._

He didn’t mean to make this man worry more. Part of him wanted to lie to him and reassure him that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. Kimishita might not be overworking himself as much anymore, but there was something else weighing down on him, wearing him out. He had to get straight to the truth, no matter how painful it might be... for both of them.

“Kimishita-san.”

Kimishita’s father looked up, surprised by the urgency in Ooshiba’s voice.

“What did you tell Atsushi...” He trailed off, blushing. Calling his captain by his first name felt strange, even if it was just to ask his father a question. “What did you tell your son on the phone yesterday?”

Heaving a sigh, Kimishita’s father leaned back in the pillows, closing his eyes, his smile fading as a tired expression crossed his face, lines of care appearing on his features. “How much has he told you?”

“Just that you had a car accident and are in the hospital.” Ooshiba clenched his fists. “He’s not telling me anything else... I think he’s hiding something important.” He jumped to his feet, staring at Kimishita’s father with urgency in his eyes. “Kimishita-san, how are you really?”

“Didn’t tell you the details, huh? That’s just like him.” Kimishita’s father sighed, a sad smile on his lips. “Alright, I’ll tell you. The truth is, I broke my back in the accident. At first they kept me here because they couldn’t tell if I’ll recover or not.”

Ooshiba nodded, listening intently.

“Well, yesterday they told me. And I told Atsushi... They told me I’m unlikely to recover without help. Unless I get an expensive surgery soon... I’ll probably end up paralyzed from the waist below.”

Ooshiba swallowed. His throat felt dry. “This surgery...” he rasped. “How much does it cost?”

“Too much– no, no, boy, I know what you’re thinking. Even you rich kid couldn’t afford it out of your pocket. But we’re already struggling to pay our normal hospital bills, with health care supporting us and everything. Atsushi’s working his heart and soul out right now, and I still have a bit saved, but...” He shook his head. “After we’ve paid for everything, we’ll be virtually bankrupt. And if I can’t walk anymore, I’ll have to give up the store too.” A humorless laugh. “I won’t have a job.”

Ooshiba stared at his fingers, trying to process everything he had just heard. Their situation really was dire, more dire than anything he’d thought possible in real life. Situations like this were something he heard about in movies or on television. He’d never thought they could happen in real life.

“So...” His voice was shaky. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Grit my teeth and improvise. I’ve always managed somehow, so why give up now?” Kimishita’s father laughed. “But it won’t be easy. Especially not for Atsushi. He only knows our old place, our store... but we can’t stay there after my release. You know the stairs, right? I can’t move up or down those. Without someone to carry me all the time, I’ll basically be rendered immobile. And Atsushi’s rarely at home, with school and everything.” He paused. “We’ll have to leave the place and get a new one somewhere, with an elevator or on the ground floor. Not an easy feat... downtown apartments are unaffordable these days.”

Ooshiba gritted his teeth. He knew what was coming.

_Don’t say it._

“Well, I have found a place we could stay in, even if we’re broke. But it’s outside of Tokyo... on the countryside, you know? And you know Atsushi. He won’t let me go there by myself. I only got him to look after me.” Another pause. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Ooshiba knew.

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want the certainty, the knowledge.

_Don’t say it._

“Unless a miracle happens... Atsushi will have to leave Seiseki.”


	8. Why

Kimishita might have to leave Seiseki.

The thought spun round and round in Ooshiba’s head, over and over like an echo, a broken record. It wasn’t real. He didn’t want it to be real, it couldn’t be real. Kimishita couldn’t just up and leave like that. He was captain of Seiseki! They were supposed to go to nationals together, they were this close to winning the Inter-High prelims! And then there was the winter tournament afterwards... and they were third-years already, for crying out loud! They only had a few more months to go before graduating! There was no way Kimishita could leave now!

But he had no choice. Kimishita didn’t want to leave either, but unless a miracle happened... unless he got himself out of this somehow, he’d have to move. Leave Seiseki, leave Tokyo. Just like that.

Ooshiba clenched his fists, trying to force down the sense of dread weighing down in his gut. Kimishita might leave _him_. After he moved away, they might not see each other again.

They might part ways. Ooshiba had never even considered that possibility. Kimishita had always been right next to him, walking by his side, ever since seventh grade. They’d been together for five long years, bickering and arguing but never separating for more than a handful of days. Ooshiba had thought it would always be like that. In all his dreams of the future Kimishita was always with him, by his side. He’d thought they could stay like that for life. Teammates, partners, reluctant friends.

And now it might all come to nothing.

All his hopes, all his dreams were cracking over his head, threatening to crumble and come breaking down on him. What would he do? How would he go about everything without Kimishita? How would he keep himself from getting lost? Who would be his support, his guidance? What was the point of it all if Kimishita wasn’t there?

_It hurts._

He didn’t want to lose his friend. He wanted to continue playing with him, every day, until they were both old and wrinkly and could barely walk anymore. He wanted to keep going to the store and find him there whenever he needed him, whenever he wanted to talk or needed advice or guidance. He might still be able to call him and text him if he left, sure. He might visit him. But it would never be the same.

It would be so lonely.

_It hurts._

Why did the thought of his teammate leaving hurt so much? And why did the thought of being left behind tear his chest apart from the inside?

\---

He should probably go in.

Ooshiba leaned against the wall next to the store door, kicking a few stones across the street. Kimishita was probably sitting in there, wondering where he was. He’d get furious and yell at him and probably punch him in the face, but that was better than making him worry. He had enough on his mind as things were.

But at the same time... he really didn’t want to see Kimishita right now, not with this storm raging in his own heart. He couldn’t face him like this. If he did... he wasn’t sure what would happen.

He didn’t want to see him. And yet he missed him. He wanted to see his face, listen to his voice, hear words of reassurance telling him that everything would be fine, that this was all a bad dream and Kimishita would stay at Seiseki for as long as he needed. He just wanted someone, anyone to free him from this nightmare.

There was the familiar whoosh of the door opening. Footsteps approached, coming to a halt right in front of him.

Ooshiba looked up.

Kimishita had come outside to meet him, rightful anger written all over his face as he scowled up at him, cracking his knuckles. “So there you are, huh! Where the hell do you think you were hiding, you moron? Skipping practice is one thing, but don’t go around disappearing like that! Ever heard of answering your fucking phone?”

Ooshiba clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, his knuckles whitening. Kimishita was right there, less than a few steps away. If he reached out an arm he could easily touch him, pull him closer. He could reach him because he was so close by to begin with. But soon that would change.

The full force of the situation kicked him in the chest. He could feel the loss, so acutely, so vividly, as if someone was tearing a limb from his body. His gaze dropped. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Kimishita’s features anymore, those vibrant, intense green eyes, the dark, messy waves of hair, the familiar scowl he’d encountered so many times.

Suddenly the cool evening air felt stifling. Everything around him felt too tight. Like a cornered animal he glanced from one side to the other, back and forth, looking for an escape. _But don’t look at Kimishita._

He did.

For the fragment of a split second Ooshiba’s gaze rested on Kimishita. His captain. His hero. The friend he might lose so soon.

Ooshiba looked at him and felt his own heart breaking.

Pushing his captain aside, he spun around and bolted for the door, running inside, rushing up the stairs, taking two and three and four at a time, stumbling, running into the apartment, as fast as his feet could carry him. Kimishita called after him, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t even look where he was going. He just wanted to get away. Away from this face. Away from this voice. Away from everything that tore him to pieces.

He didn’t stop until he reached his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Panting, he collapsed on the ground, a lump in his throat, hot tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Ooshiba whispered a curse. “Stupid Captain!” he burst out, pounding his fist against the floor. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

Every part of him was a raging thunderstorm. Everything was shaky, everything hurt. He wanted to cry, but no tears came out. He just sat on the ground, trembling with sadness and rage, feeling furious and disappointed and frustrated and terribly, terribly lonely.

He didn’t want Kimishita to leave. He wanted him right there, by his side, wanted to hear his voice and feel his presence and think everything would be all right. He wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go. Just hold onto him and protect him from anyone who tried to take him away.

He couldn’t even imagine being apart from his captain. He couldn’t imagine playing soccer without him. He couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day, in the classroom, on the pitch, in the cafeteria, at the store. He needed him around. He...

He loved him.

He was in love with Kimishita Atsushi. The realization spun in his head, clenched in his chest, burned in his eyes. He loved him. He loved him so much. He always had.

_Damn it._

Why was he only realizing that now? What had he been doing those past five years, what had he been thinking? He’d been obliviously pining after Kimishita ever since the first year of middle school. All the signs had been there, glaring in his face. His constant attempts to get his teammate’s attention. His joy at being praised by him. The feeling of jealousy when their middle school teammates first brought the idea of Kimishita dating someone into his head. The fury, the disappointment, the burning envy when Mizuki popped up in their lives and made Kimishita fall for him like it was nothing.

Why hadn’t he read the signs? Why was he only realizing his feelings now that he might lose Kimishita for good? It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! _It wasn’t fair!_

Screaming in frustration, he jumped to his feet, slamming his fist against the wall, over and over and over until his voice broke and his hand was bleeding and his lungs were gasping for air. Yet he still felt no pain. His entire body felt numb, unreal, as if it didn’t belong to him at all. The only thing that was real was the bitter fury slowly cooling down in his veins, settling into a heavy feeling of loneliness.

Ooshiba slumped down, curling up on himself and burying his face between his knees. He didn’t want to see anything. He didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to forget about everything, his feelings, Kimishita’s secret, everything. He didn’t want to feel anything.

The world fell silent. The sun set behind the city, the last rays gently caressing Ooshiba’s head, arms and knees as if they were trying to comfort him, then finally disappearing, dusk darkening the small room as night drew close. Then at last it was dark, and time came to a standstill.

Ooshiba didn’t know how long he sat there, unmoving, unthinking, curled up to keep out the cruel world outside. He lost track of time and space. Maybe an hour had passed, maybe two. Maybe it was the middle of the night already, or close to the morning. He didn’t know.

All he knew was that after what felt like an eternity, something broke the silence. Quiet footsteps... then a knock on the door.

“Kiichi, are you in there?”

Ooshiba tensed up. Holding his breath, he lowered his face, burying it deeper between his knees. Maybe if he pretended not to be here, Kimishita would go away. He didn’t want to see him right now. He wanted to be alone.

Another knock followed, louder this time. “Kiichi, answer me.”

Ooshiba remained silent.

There was a moment’s silence. Ooshiba took a quiet breath, relaxing just the tiniest bit. Was Kimishita leaving at last?

Then the voice called a third time, louder and clearer than before. “Kiichi, I’m coming in!”

“Go away.”

The voice hesitated, then Kimishita spoke again, his voice quiet but loaded with annoyance, forced into a calm tone by patience alone. “Dinner’s ready, idiot.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Ooshiba glared at the floor in front of his feet. What was this guy doing on his doorstep? Why was he so persistent? Why wouldn’t he just leave? He didn’t want to see him right now! How was that so hard to understand?

Kimishita gave an irritated sigh. There was a loud thump, as if a hand was slammed against the door. “How old do you think you are, moron?” Kimishita’s voice lost its last bit of restraint. “First you disappear and skip practice, then you won’t even tell me what’s up and lock yourself up in your room like a kid having a temper tantrum! Is that a way to act for a seventeen-year-old, huh? What in the world is your fucking problem?”

Kimishita was asking _him_ what his problem was? Oh, the irony.

“My problem?” Anger roaring to life in his veins, Ooshiba jumped up and stormed to the door, slamming it open. “ _My_ problem? What is _your_ problem, bastard?” He took a deep breath. “ _Why didn’t you tell me you’re gonna have to move?_ ”

Kimishita froze. His eyes widened with alarm. He stepped back, raising his hands as if to defend himself. “Who told you–”

“Don’t even think you can lie your way out of this!” Ooshiba burst out, grabbing his collar. “I asked your dad and he told me everything! Everything _you_ wouldn’t tell me, asshole!”

Kimishita stared at him, a look of utter betrayal on his face. Clenching his teeth, he tore free from Ooshiba’s grip, glaring up at him like a cornered beast. A mask of fury covered up the fear, and he clenched his fists, trembling with rage. “You...!” he hissed. “Who gave you permission to get all up in my personal business, you nosy son of a bitch? You snuck away and skipped practice just to talk to Pops and snoop into my life?” His voice grew louder and louder with every word, shaking and booming with anger and betrayal. “Did your nonexistent brain even consider the possibility that I might not have told you for a reason?”

“ _You don’t trust me!_ ”

Kimishita blinked, taken aback. Ooshiba didn’t care. His captain had no right to be this angry. He was the one who was angry, furious, boiling over like a full kettle, emotions spilling out on every side. “You didn’t tell me ‘cause you don’t trust me! You don’t trust your own vice-captain, you stuck-up moron! I was just trying to help! How can I help if you don’t even tell me what’s up? I’d never have asked your dad if you’d just taken that stick out your ass and told me yourself like you should’ve!”

“I don’t owe you shit!”

“I’m your vice-captain! It’s my job to help you out! I need to know what’s bothering you or I can’t do a thing, get that into your head!”

Kimishita sighed, exhaustion mixing into his flaming anger. “Who said I didn’t tell you because I don’t trust you, moron?”

“Then why?”

“...You really are an idiot, making me say this.” Kimishita clicked his tongue, frowning as he averted his eyes. “Listen. I trust you with my life. I just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get involved, all right? This is my problem. No need to bother anyone else with it.”

Ooshiba fell silent. His anger cooled off in a second. Kimishita... trusted him. With his life. He had just said so himself, and compliments from him weren’t to be taken lightly. Part of him was fluttering with happiness, smiling and dancing, but the other one was just upset. Upset that Kimishita thought he had to carry this burden alone, upset that he thought he’d be a bother if he asked for help.

“Stupid Captain.” Shaking his head, he leaned back against the doorframe, looking at his feet. “Stop pretending you gotta face this alone! I’m your vice-captain. It’s my job to be bothered by your problems!”

“You really are a dimwit.” Kimishita wasn’t looking at him, but there was the slightest hint of a smile in his voice, the slightest hint of gratitude. “Stop pretending I can’t do this by myself. I’m not as weak as you think.”

“You said the same thing when you were overworking yourself! It’s only thanks to me that you didn’t get sick or something!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, moron! If anything you made my life even harder!”

“That’s not true!” Ooshiba burst out, almost following his instinct to grab Kimishita and punch him but stopping himself at the last minute. “Just...” He glared at the floor, feeling his face heat up. “Just rely on me a little, all right? And stop hiding stuff from me! I don’t wanna see you struggle all by yourself!”

He wanted to stop there, but he couldn’t. The words kept spilling out of his heart before he could stop them, before he could even think of what he was saying. “I always got your back!” he proclaimed, crossing his arms and glaring down at Kimishita. “Even if you gotta move, I’ll call you! Every day! I’ll tell you everything about our team and you gotta come watch all our matches, you hear? And on weekends we’ll meet up and play soccer together and–”

“Kiichi.”

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks. Shoot, what had he been talking about? What had he been thinking? Had he just blurted out his feelings like that?

Kimishita looked angry– no, not just angry. Irritated, upset, hurt even. There was something in his eyes that Ooshiba had never seen before. Something that chilled the very blood in his veins.

“Shut up, Kiichi.” Kimishita’s voice was almost uncharacteristically quiet, crackling with a sense of hidden danger. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

_Promises I can’t keep?_ Ooshiba couldn’t believe the words coming from his captain’s mouth. Did he think he wasn’t being serious? “I mean it!” he insisted. “I’m planning to keep these promises, just you–”

“Shut up!” Kimishita burst out, his voice all the louder in the silence around them. “Don’t underestimate me, nitwit! You think I have no backup plan or what? I know what I’m doing!”

Ooshiba fell silent. He didn’t know what to reply.

Was Kimishita mad at him for underestimating him? Was that it? But that didn’t explain everything. It didn’t explain the pain that had flashed in his eyes, the way he had looked almost heartbroken for a second.

Had he said something wrong?

\---

Kiichi knew. He knew everything.

Kimishita closed his eyes, letting the hot water of the shower trickle over his face, trying to wash off the gloomy thoughts guarding his mind. Kiichi had found out. There was no going back now.

He hadn’t wanted his vice-captain to worry. He hadn’t wanted anyone to worry. There was no doubt in his mind that he could deal with this situation alone. He had a backup plan. There was no need for anyone to underestimate or pity him or try to help.

But he especially hadn’t wanted this. Kiichi getting mad and upset. Kiichi accusing him of not trusting him enough. Kiichi... promising to keep in touch with him even if they were separated.

_Damn it._

Even if he knew Kiichi would never keep this promise, why did he feel so moved? Why was this idiot still managing to get his hopes up? His words had made him feel happy. And that was scary. It was scary to feel happiness at words that weren’t meant seriously, promises that couldn’t be kept. He knew his hopes were just going to be crushed.

Stupid, tactless, impulsive idiot. What in the world was he doing to him?


	9. Understanding

Tsukushi had been weird all day. More precisely, he’d been looking kind of down. Out of it. The way he always looked when something was weighing down on his mind, some kind of worry or fear he couldn’t get out of his head. Kazama knew him well enough to recognize the signs.

Afternoon practice was over, and everyone else had gone home already, everyone except for the third-years, who were still out on the field and practicing free kicks. Kazama and Tsukushi should probably head home too. But he couldn’t just leave when he knew his boyfriend was worried about something; he had to know what it was, if he could do anything to help.

“Hey, Tsukushi,” he said quietly, sitting down next to him.

Tsukushi didn’t react. He kept staring at a random point in the distance, blue eyes clouded over with kindhearted concern, nervously twiddling his fingers.

“Tsukushi,” Kazama called again, a little louder this time. “Hey, Tsukushi, what’s wrong?”

Still no reaction. Tsukushi was too deep in his own thoughts, unable to notice anything happening in the world around him. He probably hadn’t even noticed everyone else leaving, had he?

“Hey, Earth to Tsukushi!” Kazama waved a hand in front of his boyfriend’s eyes. “Tsuku-chan? Sunshine?”

Tsukushi jolted and blinked, snapping out of his trance. “K-K-Kazama-kun?” he stuttered, fidgeting as he tried to take in all his surroundings at the same time. “Sorry, I was just thinking... wait.” He blushed the sweetest shade of pink, blue eyes widening as he recalled the names Kazama had called him by. “W-What did you call me?”

Kazama grinned. “Sunshine?”

Finally a smile. Tsukushi giggled, still blushing, his whole face lighting up for the first time today. Kazama’s heart skipped a beat. _Wow, I’ve missed this and it’s only been a day._  “I told you not to call me by that silly nickname!”

“Why not? It suits you!” Ruffling Tsukushi’s hair, Kazama leaned closer to his boyfriend, pulling him into his arms. “Especially when you’re smiling. So today’s been kind of cloudy, you know?” His smile faded, and he became serious, meeting Tsukushi’s wide-eyed gaze. “You all right, man? You’ve been looking pretty down.”

“Ah, did I make you worry?” Tsukushi flailed his hands around in the air, blushing with embarrassment. “Sorry! It’s just, you know... I’m a little worried.” His gaze dropped, and he rested his head against Kazama’s chest, his voice quiet as he continued, “Do you think Kimishita-senpai and Ooshiba-senpai are okay? They haven’t talked to each other all day... Do you think they had a fight?”

Kazama frowned, thinking back on the third-years’ interactions today. It was true that Kimishita-kun and Kiichiman hadn’t exchanged a single word all day, not even a glance. Last year that wouldn’t have called any attention... but these days it was unusual. Ever since they were named captain and vice-captain of Seiseki they’d become so aggressively inseparable that them not talking at all was a surefire sign that something was wrong.

Running his fingers through Tsukushi’s fluffy hair, he cracked a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Truth be told, he was worried too. “So you noticed, huh?” he said softly, half to himself. “Yeah, they’ve been acting weird. But this _is_ Kiichiman and Kimishita-kun we’re talking about. Knowing them, they probably fought over something really stupid and are too proud to apologize.” He laughed. “Give ‘em a day or two and they’re cool again. It’s happened before, right?”

Tsukushi didn’t sound any more convinced than Kazama felt. “But they haven’t had any big fights in weeks,” he insisted. “Do you think they’ll be fine? What do we do if they don’t make up...?” He raised his head from Kazama’s chest, eyes round and wide with panic. “We should do something!”

_Great, now he’s freaking out._  “Tsukushi, calm down,” Kazama said gently, careful not to sound worried himself. “Let’s just wait and see how it goes and if they don’t make up, we can try to help.” He smiled again, genuinely this time. “Okay?”

Tsukushi looked up at him for a second, then he gave a relieved sigh, nodding and smiling that warm, dazzling Tsukushi smile that made Kazama feel all mushy inside. “Okay! Thanks, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama pressed a kiss to his forehead, giving his boyfriend an adoring smile. He really was the luckiest man on earth to be dating someone as kind and caring and good-natured as Tsukushi, to have won this heart that was so big and warm and welcoming for himself. And he’d never stop being grateful to Ubukata for getting them both together, although he’d hate to say it to her face.

_Together..._

Images popped up in his head. Kiichiman and Kimishita-kun arguing like an old married couple in front of the whole team. Kimishita-kun yelling at Kiichiman for leaving his jacket at his place, raising a number of questions neither of them had bothered answering. Kiichiman following Kimishita-kun around, trying to do tasks for him and failing miserably. Kiichiman and Kimishita-kun staying behind after practice together, magically arriving at school at the same time...

Was there something more than friendship involved? He’d known about Kiichiman’s obvious crush on Kimishita-kun for ages. Had messy feelings somehow played a part in their fight?

Not good. If that were to happen, it might be really bad. Not just for the team, but for the two of them too.

_Better keep an eye on them. These two lovebirds sure don’t look like they can get anywhere without help._

\---

What had he done wrong?

Ooshiba didn’t understand. He couldn’t make sense of it. What the hell had he done to make Kimishita stop talking to him? Was his captain really that mad at him for investigating his secret and asking his father about him? Maybe he should at least have tried asking him about it first. Maybe if he hadn’t betrayed his trust, Kimishita would have told him himself.

Had he messed up? Was that the problem? But that didn’t explain everything, not by a long way. Yes, maybe Kimishita had been right in chewing him out for it, but normally that would have been the end of it. Something like this shouldn’t be a reason to give him the silent treatment. And it didn’t explain why Kimishita had snapped at him for promising to keep in touch.

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep._ What the hell was that about? Did Kimishita really think he wasn’t being serious? He should know so much better, he of all people should know! And if that wasn’t the problem, then what?

Did Kimishita not want to keep in touch after moving?

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks, trying to keep the thought out, trying to shove it away as it crept back on the edge of his mind, gripping at his heart, gnawing at him with cold teeth. Maybe Kimishita was fed up with him? Maybe he actually wanted to be rid of him, maybe he–

Stop. He wouldn’t think about that. Kimishita wasn’t like that. If he really wanted to push him away, he wouldn’t beat around the bush with it. He’d just tell him to his face and not let him in or thank him for his help or praise him when talking to his father. Kimishita did care about him... or at least he had until yesterday.

So what had happened? Why had he been ignoring him all day, not saying a word, not even looking at him? What the hell was he so mad about?

Whatever it was, Ooshiba knew he was in the right. He wouldn’t apologize for doing the right thing and trying to help. He wasn’t sorry for being a good friend, dammit! If Kimishita had a problem with that, fine. Why should he care if his captain wasn’t talking to him? It was okay! He could deal with worse!

Who was he kidding? It wasn’t okay at all.

It wasn’t okay to be ignored like this. It wasn’t okay, not talking to Kimishita, not interacting or even looking at each other, pretending to live in different worlds when they were right next to each other all along. It wasn’t okay, watching him speak to other people while giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t okay... missing him, wanting his attention back, wanting to talk to him about so many things he couldn’t even put into words. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to understand why Kimishita acted the way he did.

He had no idea he could be this lonely when the object of his affections was right there, only an arm’s reach away. And yet here he was.

\---

Not talking to Kiichi was hard.

It wasn’t just hard because they were still teammates and classmates, or captain and vice-captain, or even because they were sharing an apartment. It wasn’t just because they were virtually always together, not talking, not even looking at each other unless the other wasn’t looking, quickly turning away whenever the other was about to catch them staring. Not communicating was hard when they were pretty much forced to interact in some way, Kimishita had no doubt about that. But that wasn’t why he was struggling.

No, it was that he _wanted_ to talk to Kiichi. His stupid, treacherous heart missed talking to the idiot already, missed his voice and their pointless banter and the way they’d become more capable of holding real conversations lately. Part of him wanted to apologize for their fight and tell Kiichi everything, tell him about his plans, his possibilities, everything that still gave him hope in a tight spot like this. He still didn’t want Kiichi to get caught up in this mess any more than he already was. But he wanted to share this with him, have his encouragement and support.

_Idiot._ What was he thinking? He was supposed to distance himself. What if his plans didn’t work out? He was reaching for the stars right now, trying to do the impossible to help his father and save his own dream of going to nationals with Seiseki. All his hopes, all his wishes and aspirations could come tumbling down at any moment like a house of cards. If he opened up now, he’d regret it for sure. There was no point in getting attached.

_Getting_ attached? Who was saying he hadn’t been attached to his stupid, self-centered, big-dreaming, fiercely loyal teammate for ages?

Kimishita stopped that train of thought before it left the station. Of course he cared about Kiichi, in the way he cared about all his friends. He just needed to make sure nothing more came of that. Saying goodbye to a companion, a friend would be hard enough, but he’d manage. Saying goodbye to a close friend, however...

He sighed. There he was again, wracking his mind, his thoughts spinning round and round and round in circles and going nowhere. What was he doing? There were so many other tasks he was supposed to take care of. He had no time to waste thinking about a moron with no brain-to-mouth filter.

“Hey.” Oh, speak of the devil. “How much longer are you gonna give me the silent treatment, jerk?”

Kimishita didn’t look up. He leaned over his homework, his hair falling in his face to block out the world left and right as he forced himself not to react, not to listen. _Don’t give in. You’ve already come too far. Open up again and you’re done for._

Something hit his back, something light and hard that felt a suspicious lot like a shoe. “Hey! Don’t ignore me, asshole!”

_Don’t give in._

Kimishita peered over his shoulder. Giving in or not, he had to know what the hell Kiichi had just thrown at him. He wasn’t messing with the display and abusing someone else’s brand-new equipment, was he?

He was.

Rage boiling up within him, Kimishita jumped to his feet, glaring fiery daggers at Kiichi. “Bastard,” he growled, storming up to him, slamming him against the wall. “Don’t treat other people’s equipment badly, you arrogant brat! How much do you think other people have worked for this, huh?”

“Oh, so _now_ you’re talking to me?” Kiichi retorted, yanking at Kimishita’s shirt, holding him in place. “You’ve been ignoring me all day and now you start talking to me again over a fucking shoe? Do you care more about this shoe than about your vice-captain or what?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Don’t let your anger out on innocent objects, moron! If I ignore you it’s because I don’t want to talk to you, end of story! Stop being such a drama queen!”

“ _I’m_ the drama queen here? Then how ‘bout the guy who wants to suffer alone ‘cause he doesn’t wanna be a bother to anyone? How about the guy who stops talking me for a day without even telling me what the fuck is up, huh? And stop with that bullshit about promises I can’t keep! If you move I’m gonna call you every damn day, just you wait and see! You think I was lying or what?” Kiichi paused, breathing hard, his hands trembling, his voice cracking, furious and desperate. “I just don’t want you to leave, _don’t you understand?_ I wanna go to the Inter-High with you! I wanna go to nationals together! What’s wrong with me wanting you to stay at Seiseki, asshole?” He huffed. “ _Stupid Captain!_ ”

Kimishita gaped up at him, forgetting about his anger. Kiichi’s whole face, his entire form was drawn with nothing but raw emotion. His hands were gripping into Kimishita’s shirt, clenched so tightly the knuckles were white, shaking with fury. His breath was coming in hard gasps, huffing and panting, his chest rising and falling like the waves of a stormy ocean. His expression was lined with frustration and pain, his face flushed, his teeth clenched, his eyes reddened and shining suspiciously. He looked like he was about to cry. And suddenly Kimishita felt like crying himself.

This idiot. What was he getting so worked up about? It wasn’t even certain that Kimishita would leave. Why was he so beside himself? Why was he letting it get to him so much? Of course Kimishita was afraid of leaving the only home he’d ever known, the team he’d put all his dreams into, saying goodbye to all of his friends and his soccer career and all his plans for the future. But he wasn’t nearly as upset over it as Kiichi was. Even if he did leave, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Especially not for Kiichi.

Why was he still so upset? Was he really this afraid of Kimishita leaving?

Kiichi was a kid. He was still such a child, letting emotions go to his head like that. He cared so much, way too much. He got far too emotionally invested in everything and messed things up, no matter how much he tried to keep a cool head.

Kimishita didn’t want to leave him. He couldn’t leave him alone.

And from the looks of it, Kiichi felt exactly the same.

If it wasn’t for the huge lump in his throat, Kimishita would have laughed. All this time he’d been afraid of losing Kiichi if he moved, of getting too close to him and hurting himself when his vice-captain’s promises of keeping in touch turned out to be empty. And all this time Kiichi had been even more afraid of losing him.

Dropping his gaze, he lifted up a hand, placing it down on Kiichi’s fist still clenching into his shirt, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Idiot.”

Kiichi’s hand tensed up under his palm, stiffening. His voice was rough and raspy as he blurted out, “What the–”

“You’re an idiot,” Kimishita said again, bringing up the other hand to hold Kiichi’s in both palms. “You’re making it sound like I want to leave.”

Kiichi didn’t say anything. Kimishita gave a shaky sigh, fighting a final battle with his pride, his fear of opening up. He wanted to tell Kiichi. And Kiichi deserved to know. But if he told him everything now there’d be no going back, no way to keep his vice-captain out of a struggle he wasn’t meant to be a part of, no way to stop him from helping in ways that would leave Kimishita indebted to him, with no way to repay it. But...

But Kiichi was right. He was his vice-captain, his roommate and his friend, and he had a right to know. If he didn’t tell him he’d just start snooping around again and freak them both out. He might get worried again, or mad, or lose his nerves like he just had. It was better to let him know what exactly was going on, what Kimishita was planning to do now, just to calm him down.

Besides, it might be better to have his help, after all.

Shaking his head at them both, Kimishita glanced up, meeting Kiichi’s bright gaze with a look of determination. “Let go of me for now, I’ve got work,” he declared, but his voice was lacking its sharpness, its usual annoyed edge. “Let’s play soccer outside when I’m done here.”

Kiichi stared at him in incomprehension. “What’s that gotta do with this?”

“It means I’ll tell you everything over soccer, moron!” Kimishita snapped, a flush of embarrassment creeping on his face as he realized what he was doing. “What I’m planning to do now,” he continued more quietly, his gaze trailing off, “and everything else you want to know. You knowing my plans is better than you freaking yourself out.”

Kiichi’s face lit up for a moment, only to shift back into an impatient frown. “Why over soccer?” he huffed, pouting. “Just tell me now!”

“When customers can pop in anytime or what? Keep dreaming!” Kimishita threw a glance at the door, hoping it wouldn’t open. “Wait till I’m done, it’s a good exercise for your patience!”

Kiichi glared at him for a few heartbeats, then he dropped his gaze, grumbling something unintelligible and nodding. Kimishita couldn’t help cracking a smile.

Giving Kiichi’s fist another squeeze, he stepped closer, meeting Kiichi’s eyes as his vice-captain turned back to look at him. “But one thing’s for sure,” he said, tightening his grip on his hand. “I’m not going anywhere till we graduate. That’s a promise.”


	10. Places

Ooshiba was still an emotional mess when Kimishita finally, finally closed the shop for the day. His head was spinning, his heart overflowing with too many feelings at once. The scene earlier felt surreal. Like a dream, or maybe an illusion, yet all too real at the same time. It had happened... and yet his memories of it were blurry, vivid images engraved in his mind that lacked sequence and made no sense.

What had happened earlier? He remembered throwing something at Kimishita to get his attention – Kimishita getting angry – a fight. Or was it? Hadn’t it just been Ooshiba pouring his heart out? He remembered clenching his fists into the captain’s shirt, yelling something at him that he couldn’t recall. All he knew was that he’d been on the verge of tears. Part of him still was. And then?

He opened and closed his hand, recalling the warm feeling that still lingered against it. Kimishita’s hands closing around his. Kimishita’s green eyes meeting his gaze with a gentle, confident smile. His voice, honest and steady, promising that he wasn’t going anywhere. The overwhelming urge to place a hand on Kimishita’s hands and squeeze them.

And Kimishita had promised to tell him everything. He’d promised to answer all his questions and explain everything that needed explaining over a round of soccer. Why soccer? They might as well talk about it at home if Kimishita just wanted to be undisturbed.

Not that he cared. Kimishita would tell him everything he wanted to know. Kimishita was fully letting him in on the secret. He didn’t know what he’d done to change his mind, but he was glad he had. He was glad his captain finally trusted him enough to make a promise like this.

_Thanks, Captain. I promise I won’t disappoint you._

“Kiichi, what are you doing?”

Ooshiba snapped out of his trance. Kimishita was standing in front of him, an impatient look on his face, drumming his fingers on the doorframe he was standing in. “Spacing out or what?”

“’Course not!” Ooshiba shot back, even though he’d been doing just that. “I’ve been thinking! You know, that thing where you use your head to–”

“I’d much appreciate it if you actually did use your head and told your legs to hurry the fuck up, because I’m about to leave you behind!” Kimishita stepped through the door as Ooshiba hurried to follow him with a huff. “Leave the thinking to me. Your brain’s not made for this much exercise, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

Ooshiba couldn’t think of a clever comeback, so he just flipped the finger at him, falling into stride beside Kimishita. For awhile they just walked next to each other in silence, each busy with his own thoughts, until Kimishita turned a corner and brought them both to a halt at an empty soccer field.

Eyes wide with wonder, Ooshiba looked around. He’d never expected to find something like this in the neighborhood. The pitch was too big and professional-looking to be part of a playground or a random spot where the neighborhood kids kicked a ball around. It was huge, the lawn was well-tended, with floodlights illuminating the field, and standing on the other side of the pitch was a row of locker rooms that were deserted at this time of the day. A low fence surrounded the whole place, only interrupted by a locked gate.

Ooshiba stepped closer, one hand resting on the gate. “What is this place?”

“Training grounds,” Kimishita answered, stepping up to the fence. “They belong to the local soccer club. Mostly kids, so it’s empty at this time of the day.” Placing a foot against the fence, he swung his leg across, climbing onto the other side with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times. “Good place to train by myself after school.”

Ooshiba eyed the lock on the gate with suspicion. “You sneak in here?”

“I used to play here when I was a kid. They know I still come here, so it’s not sneaking, technically. Just don’t have a key.” Unzipping the bag slung over his shoulder, Kimishita pulled out a soccer ball, tossing it up and down in his hands. “You coming or not?”

Ooshiba didn’t hesitate about climbing the fence.

For some time they just played together in silence, sometimes against each other, sometimes working together against imaginary opponents, sometimes taking turns in shooting at the goal. No one was watching them, no one interrupting or disturbing them; the world seemed empty except for the two of them, not speaking a word, communicating everything through soccer alone. Right now there was no team to think of, no coach, no referee or spectators, just the two of them playing to their heart’s content in this secret place that no one knew except for them.

Ooshiba couldn’t stop the smile on his face. This was fun. He had almost forgotten how much fun it was, playing with Kimishita like this. They were still in perfect tune, an unbeatable team, always knowing the other’s thoughts without either having to say a word. It was like he was playing with his other half, communicating over a telepathic connection telling him where to move, how to play, what they were about to do. He didn’t have to think about anything. It just worked.

He was so glad Kimishita had taken him here. He was so happy his captain had decided to share this place with him, his secret training spot nobody else knew about. He felt like he had seen a hidden side of Kimishita again, a side the world didn’t know about, a side that was almost mischievous, climbing over a locked fence at night to have the field to himself. He wanted to see more of those sides. There was so much he still didn’t know about Kimishita, and he wanted to know everything. Every side he hid from the world, every secret he carefully kept to himself. Each one of them was a rare, precious treasure, and Ooshiba wanted to lock them in his heart forever.

And yet he couldn’t help a strange feeling clouding his mind. The more he watched Kimishita, the more he felt his own chest constrict with worry and anxiousness. Kimishita wasn’t playing like usual; he seemed tense, nervous even, like there was someone watching and judging his every move, someone who was even more perfectionistic than he was. It was like he was piling too much pressure on himself, and Ooshiba couldn’t understand why.

But he wanted to. He needed to know.

“Hey,” he called over to Kimishita after scoring another goal together, “let’s take a break and talk already! You promised to tell me everything, right?”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks, blinking at him as if he was waking up from a long dream. For a split second he looked confused, lost, almost vulnerable. Then his countenance reemerged, and the illusion disappeared behind a defiant glare and a mocking smirk. “What, are you tired already!”

“Of course not!” Ooshiba snapped, and for once it was the truth. “You just promised to tell me over soccer, so when are you planning to do that?”

“Don’t be so impatient, you brat. I’ll tell you when I want!”

“We’re already playing soccer, you prick! Just tell me and be done with it! What’s your deal?”

Kimishita’s glare sharpened. Clenching his fists, he clicked his tongue in irritation, taking a deep breath. He looked like he was ready to yell at him till he gave up or punch his lights out.

Then he exhaled, jogged over to his bag lying behind the goal and pulled out two water bottles, tossing one of them in Ooshiba’s hands. “Fine. A break it is.”

Ooshiba opened the bottle to take a giant gulp out of it, only just noticing how thirsty he was. Screwing the lid back on, he walked to the side of the field to sit down next to Kimishita. Neither of them spoke a word. They just sat side by side, listening to the other catching his breath as they gazed up at the sky, where a million distant stars smiled back at them from the depths of space and time.

“So?” Ooshiba said at last, breaking the silence. “What’s your plan for now?”

Kimishita tore his gaze from the endless night sky, closing his eyes. “I need to get money somewhere,” he said slowly, quietly, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure of what he was saying himself. “For my old man’s surgery. There’s no way around that.”

Once again Ooshiba found himself wondering how much a surgery like that could possibly cost, if he might be able to help, or maybe his parents. He didn’t ask. Kimishita was barely accepting his help with simple everyday tasks; there was no way he’d accept something this big, even if he actually had the means to help him pay for it.

“Where you gonna get that?” he asked instead. “Seiseki doesn’t allow part-time jobs, and they don’t pay enough anyway.” Jokingly, he added, “You’re not planning to start anything shady, are ya?”

“Very funny,” Kimishita snapped, and Ooshiba instantly regretted his joke. “Of course not. I’m... thinking of a loan.”

Ooshiba’s eyes widened with surprise. “A loan?”

“Yeah. We have no proper source of income at the moment, so it’s not an option for Pops, but...” He opened one eye, a piercing green orb fixing Ooshiba in its gaze. “If I get scouted and go pro, I’ll be able to prove that I can pay it back soon. Maybe I can find a bank that lets me put off the repayment till after graduation.”

“Wait. So...” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ooshiba couldn’t help the giddy, fluttery feeling spreading inside his chest, tingling in his entire body, crackling and sparkling with joy. “You’re going pro?”

Kimishita nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Ooshiba could barely stop the big goofy grin threatening to spread all across his face. Kimishita was going pro. They would continue playing together after graduating. They could aim for the national title together, the national team, then the World Cup. They could reach for the stars together, the very top of the soccer world, side by side, right where they belonged.

It sounded almost too good to be true.

“I heard there will be scouts at the Inter-High qualifier finals,” Kimishita said, gazing at the ball still lying behind the goal line. His eyes were dark with worry, his voice quiet as he continued, “Pops needs that surgery soon. That match is probably... my only chance.”

_I might not make it._

The words hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken yet clear as day, written in Kimishita’s face, echoing through his voice. _If I fail..._

This idiot. Why was he thinking that? Why was he not realizing what an amazing player he was? Those scouts would be fighting over him!

Ooshiba didn’t say that out loud. He just looked at Kimishita with trust and confidence in his eyes, hoping his captain would understand. There was no need to worry. If anyone could do this, he could. Ooshiba should know. So why was he pressuring himself like this? Even if there really was no other way–

None at all?

“Why doesn’t anyone help you, anyway?” Ooshiba played with the water bottle in his hands. “Do you really have no family left, like your dad said?”

Kimishita shook his head. “Don’t know any. Doubt they’d help us, even if anyone’s still out there.”

“Not even your mom?”

Kimishita stiffened, his gaze hardening. “Never,” he snapped, tearing out a fistful of grass. “That’s for sure.”

“Why?” Ooshiba knew he should probably shut up and drop the topic, but curiosity got the better of him. Kimishita had said he could ask him anything, and he felt like this was important. “Did she die or something?”

“Might as well have,” Kimishita said grimly, ripping the grass blades in his hands to tiny pieces. “She ditched us when I was two, I haven’t heard from her since. I think Pops knows where she is, but he never talks about her.” He clenched his fists, dark fury flickering behind his eyes. “I’ll sell my soul before I crawl to her for help.”

Ooshiba opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say. He had never seen Kimishita like that before. He had seen him angry a million times, furious, annoyed, impatient, frustrated even. But this was different. This was age-old bitterness, a pure, deep-rooted hatred without any trace of sympathy or understanding. Something beyond annoyance, anger, rage... something Ooshiba couldn’t bring himself to comprehend. “But...”

“No buts! Question time’s over.” Standing up, Kimishita marched back to his bag to toss his water bottle inside, not meeting Ooshiba’s gaze. “You gonna stay here and practice or do you wanna go home already? I’m still staying.”

Ooshiba was on his feet in no time. “Then I’m staying too!”

There was so much he still didn’t understand about Kimishita, so much he still didn’t know after five years of playing for the same team, of bickering and arguing and awkward displays of care and affection. They were soulmates on the pitch, but he was only just beginning to comprehend the Kimishita that wasn’t playing soccer, the person behind Seiseki’s team captain and the jersey number 10. What he’d heard just now was only the beginning, a tiny fraction of all the things he had yet to find out about his roommate, his friend.

He wanted to. He wanted to find out more about Kimishita Atsushi, his bossy, sharp-tongued, nerve-wrackingly perfectionistic companion, and he wanted to hear it from his own mouth. He wanted Kimishita to open up to him, even if it was just for a short time before he went back to his aloof, distant safe mode. He didn’t just want to know the midfielder, the soccer player, the captain. He wanted to get to know the human being behind all those titles.

“Hey, Kiichi! Are you coming or are you waiting for hell to freeze over?”

Kimishita picked up the ball from the goal and looked at him. Ooshiba cracked a small smile. Kimishita sighed, clicking his tongue and turning away, but Ooshiba could still see the smile he was trying to hide.

And at that very second he understood him perfectly. Just for a little moment.

\---

For once in his life, Kimishita honestly couldn’t tell if what he’d just done was right or wrong.

He had always taken pride in knowing what he was doing. For the overwhelming majority of the eighteen years of his life, he had always approached everything with the knowledge that it was the right thing to do, pragmatically and morally. Doubting his own decisions wasn’t his style. Even if he ended up regretting them because the results weren’t as pretty as he’d hoped or ended up giving him a minor existential crisis and a major headache, at least he could tell that he’d acted to the best of his knowledge and conscience.

This, however... this was different. This time he had no idea if he’d made a good choice or the mistake of his life. His conscience was clear; but his mind was doubting things, wondering if it had been alright to tell Kiichi secrets that he hadn’t even told his father. It wasn’t that he doubted that Kiichi would keep them and not tell anyone, and he understood that his vice-captain needed to know, or he wouldn’t be able to help; and help, embarrassing and hard to admit as it was, was something he probably needed. Kiichi had been his teammate for half a decade, and he’d been aware of his presence for even longer, almost half his life. If he needed to rely on someone, his vice-captain was the best, most trustworthy choice he could make. Rationally, there shouldn’t be a problem. And yet...

Why did he feel like he had just done something incredibly stupid?

Was this what sharing secrets with someone felt like? Scary... uncomfortable, somehow. A little wrong in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic.

Cursing his own weak-mindedness, Kimishita clicked his tongue, aimed and slammed the ball into the goal for what felt like the millionth time today. His clothes and hair were drenched with sweat, his legs heavier than lead. Kiichi was looking even more exhausted, barely keeping himself upright even as he struggled to continue playing. If they didn’t stop soon, they’d probably overexert themselves and risk an injury, to say nothing of the cold they might catch in this soaking wet state.

Well, just a little longer. Just one more pass, one more shot, one more goal. Then he’d stop. But while he still had the strength he needed to go on. He needed to get even better, even stronger. He needed to carry the team to the Inter-High and get scouted. And he knew all too well that only the best players did.

Breathing hard, Kimishita marched forward to retrieve the ball, forcing his legs to keep moving, barely noticing the stagger of his feet. Just a little longer. Then he’d stop for sure.

He didn’t reach the ball in time. Kiichi beat him to it, picking it up in front of his very nose, holding it out of his reach as he went to stuff it into the bag. Curse that guy and his height. What was he planning?

“What do you think you’re doing, moron?” Stumbling after Kiichi, he glowered up at him with all the strength he could still muster. “Give it back!”

“Hell no!” Kiichi slung the bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the fence. “You need to take a break, you still gotta walk home ‘cause I’m not gonna carry you!”

Kimishita felt annoyance bubble up in his veins, a welcome, familiar feeling that drowned out the confusion. “Don’t underestimate me, moron,” he snapped. “I can still keep going! Nobody’s asking you to carry me!”

“Just stop already!” Huffing, Kiichi stomped towards him, grabbing his collar and hauling him off the field despite his struggles and protests. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep training now! And then who’s gonna get scouted in the finals, huh?”

Kimishita didn’t answer. Kiichi was right, of course. He was pushing himself way too hard again. And once again it took Kiichi to tell him to stop, that he was doing too much and needed to take a break before he broke himself. But even now his mind was still urging him to go on, to push himself harder, to train and practice and perfect his skills while he still had the strength. As long as his legs could carry him, he could still use his last bit of power to keep working, or else he wouldn’t be good enough for the scouts to consider him. He wasn’t a natural, not in the way Mizuki or Kiichi were. If he wanted to survive in the professional soccer world, he had to keep up with them through hours and hours of hard work.

Still, the rational part of his mind was grateful that Kiichi was there to drag him off. If it hadn’t been for him, he probably would have stayed on that field till he collapsed.

Sighing, he grabbed Kiichi’s hand and yanked it off his collar. “I got it, idiot. No need to drag me all the way.”

Kiichi hesitated and reluctantly let go, sticking his now-free hand in his pocket. “But don’t try to run back to the field!”

“Don’t compare me to you! It’s not like I can train much with you holding the ball, genius!”

“Good!” Something akin to smug satisfaction crossed Kiichi’s face, but for once Kimishita only felt slightly annoyed by it. “Let’s hurry home already, I’m starving.”

Kimishita’s stomach growled in response. He had almost forgotten how hungry he was... oh great, and he still needed to make dinner. The prospect of standing in the kitchen when his legs could barely carry him and all he wanted to do was sleep sounded like a nightmare. And come to think of it, what did they even have left to make dinner out of?

He clicked his tongue, whispering a curse. “We still need to buy groceries on the way home. We’re out of everything.”

“Wanna eat out?”

Kimishita stopped walking. “What?”

“It’s faster and easier.” Kiichi shrugged. “I know a good ramen place nearby that’s–”

“Brilliant idea,” Kimishita interrupted him, getting annoyed. “Look at me, the millionaire who can afford to eat out!”

“It’s my treat! Let’s go!”

“But–”

“I said let’s go, I’m hungry!” A large hand closed around Kimishita’s wrist, pulling him along with an iron grip. “You really think I’d make you pay for the food yourself?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, wanting to say something about Kiichi pitying him, but he kept his mouth shut. Kiichi was being way too nice, but he had a point, and Kimishita had never been one to say no to free food. They were both starving, and the prospect of a fast dinner sounded a lot more promising than grocery shopping and cooking or getting takeout somewhere.

Shaking his head, he followed Kiichi, letting the warm hand around his wrist pull him along. Kiichi’s grip was firm, but for some reason it didn’t feel uncomfortable. On the contrary... it actually felt strangely nice. So nice he didn’t want that hand to let go.

Kimishita was glad Kiichi wasn’t looking at him. His face heated up with a glowing red blush. What on earth was he thinking? He wasn’t supposed to have these weird embarrassing thoughts now!

The ramen place wasn’t too far away. They had only turned a few corners when Kiichi came to a halt in front of a door that definitely looked a bit too fancy for a run-of-the-mill ramen shop. Kimishita couldn’t stop a sigh. He should have known.

“This is the place,” Kiichi declared, beginning to step inside.

Kimishita didn’t budge.

Kiichi turned around, confusion reflecting in his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I said this is the place!”

Kimishita lifted his arm, gesturing to Kiichi’s hand still wrapped around his wrist. Now that they weren’t alone anymore he was painfully aware of people staring at them in passing, a judging look on their faces. “You’re still holding my hand, idiot!”

Kiichi’s face turned redder than his hair. “I’m holding your _wrist!_ ” he sputtered, letting go like Kimishita’s arm was on fire. “Don’t make it sound weird!”

“Well, it sure as hell _looked_ like you were holding my hand!” Kimishita retorted, pulling his hand away before Kiichi could change his mind and grab it again. “People are staring, moron! You want them to judge us that bad, huh?”

“Shut up!” Spinning around, Kiichi stormed to the door, slamming it open. Kimishita followed close behind. Some weird, idiotic part of him missed the warm feeling of Kiichi’s hand around his wrist already. What was wrong with him? He had almost died of embarrassment a second ago!

Well, that didn’t matter. What mattered right now was the food, and with every new scent reaching his nose, every picture of the different dishes on the menu reminded him how hungry he was. His eyes scrolled idly through the options, trying to look at nothing but the price tags. If Kiichi was nice enough to pay for him, the least he could do was pick the least expensive item on the list.

His eyes did rest on the dishes’ names. They did rest on the pictures and ingredients, and one in particular made his mouth water and his stomach growl. Then he looked at the price, and his appetite was gone in an instant. No, no, the cheapest one it was.

Kiichi peeked over his shoulder. “Have you decided yet?”

“I’ll just take the cheapes–”

“We’ll have the green curry miso ramen and the tomato broth ramen, please!”

Kimishita spun around, glaring up at Kiichi, who looked almost infuriatingly unapologetic. “What was that for, dimwit? Don’t just order me that expensive dish!”

Kiichi stuck his hands in his pockets, blushing and pouting. “What makes you think it’s for you, jerk?”

“It’s way too spicy for you and the other one’s got tomatoes in it. It’s not rocket science!”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He just buried his hands even deeper in his pockets, his blush intensifying; and suddenly Kimishita found himself blushing too. Kiichi had noticed, he realized. His vice-captain had noticed exactly which dish he had wanted to eat and ordered it for him, even though he’d been trying to hide it and insisting on not being a burden.

Stupid, perceptive, generous idiot.

They waited for their food in silence, watching it as it was made, smelling the mingling scents, their mouths watering. Kimishita couldn’t take his eyes off all the food. There was so much good food here, food that he couldn’t even dream of eating on a normal day, that he could barely afford on special occasions. It looked so good, so delicious. If he had the chance, he’d come here every day and try everything on the menu.

The spicy scent of his ramen filled the air, and Kimishita’s eyes lit up as he took the steaming hot bowl in his hands. It was almost too pretty to eat, like a work of art and not food. This was way too good for him.

A nudge from behind snapped him out of his thoughts. “Let’s sit down,” Kiichi said, walking ahead of him to an empty booth. Kimishita followed him, sitting down next to him without a second thought, his eyes still fixed on the bowl in his hands.

“C-Can I really have this?” he said in awe. “I can pay you back if you wa–”

“Don’t you dare, moron!” Kiichi slammed a hand on the table, making the broth in the bowls shake. “I’m treating you! Just let me, all right?”

“I can’t accept this!” Kimishita shouted back. “You could at least have ordered something cheaper like I told you to!”

Kiichi huffed, gesturing to the bowl in front of Kimishita. “But you wanted _this_ , right? Don’t lie! I saw how excited you got!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“So what? You could’ve just ignored it!”

“No way! You...” Kiichi interrupted himself, as if realizing what he had been about to say, and turned away with a furious blush and a grumble. “Yrcutewnyrxcited.”

Kimishita stared at him, trying to make sense of his unintelligible mumbles. For some reason his heartbeat picked up its pace, an odd feeling stirring in his chest. His face heated up. “What?”

“I said I’m not that much of an asshole.” Still avoiding his eyes, Kiichi grabbed his chopsticks and started slurping his noodles. “Just accept it and eat!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, but he complied wordlessly. Whatever Kiichi had said or not said didn’t matter right now. He shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and if said gift horse came in the shape of hot, deliciously spicy food, he sure as hell wouldn’t complain. He was still starving, after all.

Their silence didn’t hold for long. They had only been eating for a few minutes when Kiichi suddenly stopped, picked up some noodles with his chopsticks and held them out towards Kimishita. “Wanna try mine?”

Kimishita gaped at him in disbelief, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. Was this idiot really trying to feed him out here in public? Doing that in front of their teammates was one thing, but doing that in front of several dozen strangers who’d all get the wrong idea was something else entirely!

“Huh?” he growled, glaring at Kiichi over his chopsticks. “You think I’m falling for that again? You’ll just end up eating it all yourself and making me look stupid!”

“A-As if!” Kiichi averted his eyes, his face matching the color of the broth of his ramen. “That was one time, you resentful prick! Just try it!”

Kimishita glared at him for a moment. Then he looked at the chopsticks still hanging in front of his face, the noodles threatening to slip and fall down. He looked at the people around them, who were all minding their own business.

Well, one bite wouldn’t hurt.

Taking a deep breath, he swallowed his pride and gulped down the noodles from Kiichi’s chopsticks.

_Not bad._

They tasted like tomatoes, of course, tomatoes and mild spice, a rich, sweet combination that warmed his mouth and stomach. It was a soft taste, somehow, soft in a way he hadn’t expected from this dish but that he couldn’t help liking. In a very strange sort of way it seemed to fit Kiichi.

There he was again, thinking weird things. What in the world was wrong with him?

Kiichi looked at him with curious, expectant eyes, not saying a word. Kimishita looked back, puzzled. “What?” he finally said, getting impatient. “I’m not psychic!”

Kiichi made that face he always made when he asked for something, determined and a little childish. “Lemme try yours too.”

“Idiot!” Kimishita lifted his free hand to smack him over the head. “Do you have any idea how spicy green curry is? Saturday’s dinner is nothing to this!”

For a moment Kiichi looked like he was about to object and insist on trying it anyway. Then he turned away, grumbling and blushing, and went back to slurping his own noodles.

“Get something less spicy next time,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. “So I can try yours too.”

“You’re the one who ordered this for me, idiot!”

“Then change your tastes and like something that’s less spicy!”

“I can’t just magically make my tastes fit yours! Am I supposed to use witchcraft or what?”

Kiichi didn’t reply. He just continued eating, and Kimishita went back to his food too. They ate in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts until they finished and Kiichi spoke up again.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking?” Kimishita scoffed, half amused, half afraid of whatever stupid idea was bound to follow. “I’m amazed.”

Kiichi gave an annoyed huff. “Let me finish!” he insisted, his face terrifyingly serious. “Let’s switch positions in the finals.”

Kimishita gaped at him, trying to process the five different levels of nonsense in his suggestion at once. “Huh?”

“You play forward!” Kiichi replied, tapping a finger against his chest. “That way you’ll stand out and get scouted for sure!”

Kimishita face-palmed. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!” he snapped as he yanked Kiichi’s hand away from his chest. “You think forwards are the only ones who stand out? No point in getting scouted as a forward if I play midfielder! Not that I’ll get scouted in the first place if you fuck up as a midfielder and we lose, dumbass!”

Kiichi looked dejected, but the impression lasted only for a moment before a new idea seemed to pop into his head, and his face lit up with fiery determination. “Then,” he declared, “I’ll make you stand out for sure! I’ll be a hero and make all the pro teams fight over you, just you watch me!”

Kimishita gaped up at him. Something stirred in his chest. Pride, gratitude, awe... what was this feeling? Kiichi was sounding exactly like himself... and yet he suddenly sounded so strong, so reliable. Heroic, even.

It was strange, but he didn’t feel as afraid of the finals anymore.

“Idiot.” He turned away, covering his mouth to hide the blush and smile on his face, but his voice betrayed him. “I’ll be counting on you.”

From the corner of his eye Kimishita could see Kiichi blushing, struggling to hide an excited smile. “Sure!”

Kimishita’s smile widened. There was nothing to worry about. He wasn’t alone.

Kiichi was always by his side, after all.

\---

In the end, Ooshiba did have to carry Kimishita home.

He was so teasing him for falling asleep at a ramen shop later. But he wouldn’t mention the fact that Kimishita had fallen asleep on his shoulder or that he had liked it. Ever.

Come to think of it, he wouldn’t tell him he’d carried him on his back either. Way too embarrassing.


	11. Natural

Nothing could stop him now.

Kimishita ran faster. His legs flew over the grass, feeling the ball against his feet with every step. The cheers of the crowd, the shouts of his teammates faded against the echo of his footsteps. The wind tugged at his hair, fresh with the taste of freedom and adrenaline.

The goal was right in front of him. Nobody could get in his way. He could see the goalkeeper move in slow motion, noticed every hole in his defense.

He took aim and shot.

The ball flew through the air, lightning-fast and unstoppable. All the world fell silent as it hit the net and fell to the ground.

Then the cheers broke out. His entire team started shouting and laughing at the same time, running up to him to give him high fives and tackle him with hugs. They were shouting things he didn’t understand, but he could hear the joy in their voices, the pride.

A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Kimishita found himself spun around and lifted up in the air, a proud figure smiling up at him. His face was blurry, unrecognizable, but Kimishita smiled back, leaning into him as the figure reached up and pulled him into an affectionate kiss.

_This dream again, huh._ Kimishita had seen it before, many times. It had been awhile since the last time, but he still remembered every detail as if it had been burned into his brain. The wind, the voices, the goal. The cheers of his teammates. The blurry, faceless figure that lifted him up and kissed him. He’d always thought it was Mizuki, but this time the figure seemed different. Taller, stronger. And his hair...

_Red?_

Kimishita jolted upright. For a second his eyes saw nothing but darkness. He had no memory where he was, how he had ended up here.

Little by little his eyes got used to the dark. He was in his room, in his bed, wearing his pajamas. The alarm clock on the nightstand showed two in the morning.

Wait, his room? Why was he here? He had no recollection of coming here at all. The last thing he remembered was playing soccer with Kiichi, letting him drag him to that ramen shop, eating together and talking... _and_...?

No matter how hard he tried, he kept drawing a blank. There was nothing he remembered beyond that point.

It couldn’t be...

Had he fallen _asleep?_ At a restaurant? In _public?_

No, no, no way. If he had, then why was he here, in his room, neatly tucked under the covers and dressed for sleep? He must have been at least half awake on the way home, just awake enough to drag himself to bed and get changed, even if he couldn’t remember a thing. Unless...

The memory of waking up at the store crossed his mind, with Kiichi’s jacket draped over his shoulders and receipts lying on the desk. Had Kiichi helped him out again? Had he carried him all the way home, somehow managed to change him out of his sweat-drenched clothes and tucked him in, all while he’d been fast asleep?

Kimishita ran a hand across his face. It was burning hot, so hot that he felt like it was glowing in the dark. This idiot... he’d gone completely overboard. Just putting him down on the couch with a blanket would have been enough, but Kiichi just had to act like a worried mother and go the extra mile to make sure he wouldn’t catch a cold. And Kimishita didn’t know how to handle it all.

He was burning with embarrassment. He was happy. He was grateful. Grateful to have this stupid overgrown brat by his side, who was helping him and supporting him and sticking to him, year after year. Even if they still fought... even if they still couldn’t communicate without lapsing into sarcasm and firing insults at each other and getting irrationally angry at the tiniest mistakes or jabs. Kiichi’s actions spoke a language that was different from his words, louder and more honest. His gestures said everything his mouth wouldn’t.

Come to think of it, it had always been that way.

Kiichi had been a neverending constant in Kimishita’s life. From the first time he saw him play, from their first meeting in middle school, he had always been there, by his side, for a very long time. In good times they had yelled at each other over the tiniest things, and in bad times they had fought side by side, holding the other up when he struggled, a secret agreement of silent support. They had both insulted the other when he made mistakes, and yelled at the other when he doubted himself, over and over again.

Kimishita thought back to early spring, recalling the day the former third-years graduated. It had been their last day of school, but most of all it had been Mizuki’s last day before leaving Tokyo to start practice with his pro team. Kimishita had dreaded this day, this moment, for weeks. He had feared the fragility of his own feelings, that it would break his heart to see Mizuki leave, not knowing when they would meet again. He remembered the clenching feeling in his chest, the lump in his throat as Mizuki said his goodbyes to him, patted him on the back and smiled and gave him that ridiculous thumbs-up as he congratulated him on being made captain. He remembered the way Mizuki turned away from him, went on from one teammate to the other, speaking a few words to everyone, then finally nodded firmly and left. He remembered the former captain’s retreating back, the feeling of his heart threatening to break in his chest.

Then a large warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, giving it a silent squeeze. Kimishita looked up to find Kiichi standing beside him, not saying a word, not even looking at him, just keeping his hand on his shoulder until Mizuki had long disappeared out of sight.

And it had been okay, somehow. It hadn’t hurt as much to see Mizuki leave anymore. Because Kiichi was there, right by his side, whenever he needed him.

How much longer, he wondered?

The realization was a cold slap to the face. Even if Kimishita managed to stay in Seiseki somehow, after graduation they’d have to part ways. Kiichi would go pro... and Kimishita? What did _he_ want to do? He didn’t know. He had less than a year to decide what to do with his life, and he didn’t know. All he knew was that he and Kiichi probably wouldn’t stay together. Kiichi would become a professional player; he’d become famous and start living in a different world, one that Kimishita had only seen from a distance. Maybe he’d go abroad to play for a club in a different country. Maybe he’d make it on the national team. He wouldn’t be around anymore; he’d be busy with practice and matches and interviews and slowly fade from Kimishita’s reach, until there was nothing to connect them anymore except for the hollow “We were teammates in high school.”

He didn’t want that. Everything, but not that. He’d take anything, everything life wanted to throw at them, if only they could stay together, connected, somehow. He didn’t want Kiichi to grow out of his reach, out of his league. Just letting them stay friends, that was all he asked for.

If he got scouted in the finals, maybe they’d end up playing for the same team after graduation. Maybe they’d end up on different teams and become heated rivals, but even then they would still be on the same ground, on the same level. Even if he just ended up playing for a season or two before heading off to college, he’d still have become part of that world Kiichi was staying in, and maybe his vice-captain wouldn’t slip from his grasp to become a faraway dream, a distant figure of fame that he had known once.

Kimishita sighed, burying his face in the pillow. Soccer really was his solution to everything, huh. The finals wouldn’t solve all his problems forever. They were just a means to postpone them; postpone leaving home and Seiseki, postpone parting ways with Kiichi, postpone the decision of what he wanted to do in the future. Maybe it was wrong to put so many hopes into that one match, but he couldn’t help it. It was his only solution. He couldn’t think of another way out.

So all he could do was work his hardest and hope it would turn out okay.

\---

It was the last few weeks all over again.

Kimishita had only just gotten better, and now this. He had only just started to look less stressed, less worn out and overworked, and now he was looking worse than ever, telltale dark bags under his eyes speaking of sleepless nights, his skin gray as a phantom’s, his patience all gone. Over the past few days he had turned into a tense, sleepless, stressed-out shadow of himself, and Ooshiba could do nothing but watch.

This idiot! Ooshiba had only just managed to make him give himself a break, and now all his efforts had been for nothing. Kimishita was pushing himself even harder than before. Every free minute he could afford sparing he spent practicing soccer, hours upon hours, late in the evening, at ungodly hours of the morning, sometimes even in the middle of the night if he couldn’t sleep. Ooshiba could see the entire team looking at him with worry, but he knew better. Ooshiba knew exactly why Kimishita was pushing himself to his limits. It wasn’t just that he was pressuring himself too much and working too hard, it was that he couldn’t find peace, that he was a bundle of raw nerves even when he did try to rest. And he understood, but there was no way in hell he’d tolerate it.

“Hey, Captain!”

Kimishita turned in the doorframe, gym bag slung over his shoulder, giving Ooshiba a pointed glare, visibly annoyed to be slowed down and lose precious minutes. “What?”

Ooshiba didn’t care about Kimishita’s expression. He didn’t care about his anger. He climbed over the counter, rushed through the store and snatched him by the collar, shoving him against the nearest wall. “Don’t even think about going out to practice now, moron! You can barely stand!”

Kimishita’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I can stand just fine!” he growled, grabbing Ooshiba’s shirt, long fingers digging into the fabric until his knuckles turned white. “What do you think you’re holding me back for, huh? You want me to fail in the finals or what?”

A pang shot through Ooshiba’s chest. This stupid, stupid idiot. Was he really thinking he wouldn’t be scouted if he didn’t spend every free second practicing until he collapsed? That was just wrong! Ooshiba knew he was a perfectionist who only compared himself to people way better than him, but this was so, so wrong! Why couldn’t he just acknowledge how good he was?

“It’s not fair!”

Kimishita looked up. His grip on Ooshiba’s shirt loosened for a moment, the look on his face softening from anger to surprise. “Wha–”

“It’s not fair!” Ooshiba burst out again, the words pouring straight out of his heart like an unstoppable wave. “Why do you think you can’t get scouted unless you work till you break down? You’re so good, moron! Why can’t you just stop and realize how good you are?”

“Idiot.” Kimishita gave a sigh, and the anger reemerged on his face, stronger than ever. “It’s not about being good or not! I know I’m good! I’m just not stupid enough to think there’s no one better!”

_You’re wrong,_ Ooshiba wanted to shout, wanted to grab him and shake him until he acknowledged it too, until he understood. _You’re the best player I’ve ever seen in my life! Why the hell are you still thinking you’re not good enough?_

He didn’t. He just clenched his hand into Kimishita’s collar, trying to stop it from trembling with anger and frustration. “Who cares if there’s better players?” he shouted, slamming his forehead against Kimishita’s, catching his hand and pinning it to the wall. “You’re an amazing player too! Just because you’re not the best of the best doesn’t mean you can’t go pro, _moron!_ ”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. The fury in his face turned to grim bitterness, pain burning dark in his eyes. “Bullshit.”

There was something in his voice that made Ooshiba stop in his tracks. Swallowing, he loosened his grip, letting go of Kimishita’s wrist as he took a step back. “What?”

“I said it’s bullshit!” Kimishita spat at him, his voice exploding with rage. “I don’t want to hear any of that garbage from a natural like you! Not everyone has superhuman abilities like you do and can just get into whatever they want! Some people have to work their fucking asses off to keep up with your leisurely stroll! What do you know about struggling to not get left behind, huh? What do you know about watching your own teammates grow way out of your league?” He took a sharp breath. “You know _nothing!_ ”

Ooshiba staggered back as if he’d been hit. Kimishita’s eyes were burning with fury, burning holes into his chest until he dropped his gaze, clenching his fists. He wanted to protest. He had to protest. Kimishita was dead wrong. He had always been amazing, the most incredible player he’d ever met. Hadn’t he always been confident about his skills before? Hadn’t he been arrogant in middle school? Where had it all gone? He didn’t understand!

_You know nothing!_ Kimishita’s voice echoed in his head. No, he didn’t. He didn’t get it. What had changed so much? What had made Kimishita stop thinking of himself as naturally talented? Was it Captain Mizuki, that superhuman monster? Was it all the other midfielders he had met and lost to? Whatever it was, Ooshiba wanted to grab it and shake it and punch it in the face for driving his captain to _this!_

“What happened to you?” he burst out, furious and desperate. “You used to be so, so... confident! Where’d all that confidence go?”

Kimishita grabbed the hand gripping his collar and tore it off, slapping Ooshiba’s hand away like a nasty bug. “What happened? Life happened!” he shouted, shoving him back to brush past him, storming towards the door. “Dozens of players I can never beat happened! So how’s it like, telling me what to do if you’re only ever used to being chased, huh? Nice privilege you got there!”

“I– That’s not true!” Ooshiba sputtered, stumbling after him. His voice was trembling and shaking, a volcano of emotion boiling in his chest, threatening to erupt at any second. “I’ve always – _always–_ ”

Kimishita didn’t wait for him to finish. He stormed outside, slammed the door in his face and was gone.

Ooshiba stared after him, fury and frustration bubbling in his veins, betrayal stabbing him in the heart and twisting around like a cold knife. That asshole... Couldn’t he at least hear him out? Was he so mad he wouldn’t even listen to him anymore? Ooshiba just wanted to help him, dammit! What was so wrong with being worried?

_I’ve always chased after you._

Looked like he wouldn’t have to say that after all.

It wasn’t like that jerk deserved to hear it.


	12. Unapologetic

Kimishita hurried blindly down the street, not even bothering to look where he was going. His head was reeling. The anger in his blood was still boiling hot, bubbling and steaming and refusing to cool down. Anger at Kiichi for not understanding, for underestimating him like this. Yes, he knew he was putting a lot of pressure on himself. Yes, he was pushing himself to his limits. So what? Like he hadn’t done that before! Couldn’t his idiot vice-captain just trust him for once and let him do as he saw fit? He wasn’t so weak he’d collapse just from a few days of intense training! He was _fine_ , damn it!

Through his fuming anger, a voice whispered in his head, soft and clear and infuriatingly calm. _Maybe you should have explained yourself to him. It’s not like he can read your mind._

He brushed it off, clicking his tongue. Explained himself... What was there to explain? He already had explained everything to him! Kiichi was a natural. If he wanted to play on the same level as him, he had to practice a thousand times more, had to make up for their natural difference in talent with hard work and determination. A privileged bastard who’d always been praised as a genius should shut his mouth. It wasn’t like he knew what it was to be struggling to keep up, to be afraid to be left behind by the rapid growth of his own teammates. Spoiled, ignorant, privileged brat. Why should Kimishita have to defend himself to him?

 _Are you sure he doesn’t know what it’s like to chase after people?_ the voice replied, still as soft as ever. _He was about to say something when you walked out on him. Shouldn’t you have stayed and heard him out?_

Kimishita scoffed. What could Kiichi possibly have said in his defense? _I’ve always, always..._ Always what? Anything that could possibly follow those words had to be utter nonsense.

But he’d looked hurt when Kimishita slammed the door in his face. Upset, betrayed. Had he been about to say something important? Had Kimishita made a mistake by walking out on him like that?

 _No, don’t think of that._ Kiichi had just been angry that someone wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t pay attention to him even though he demanded it. He was a man-child with an ego the size of Mount Everest, of course he’d get mad when he was interrupted, not heard out, not listened to.

That was it... right? That had to be it... or else...

Who was he kidding. Of course he had made a mistake. Kiichi hadn’t just looked angry, he had looked hurt, almost heartbroken. _Kimishita_ had hurt him. He had lashed out, and he had locked him out, blinded by anger, and he had hurt his roommate, vice-captain and friend.

Kimishita stopped walking. His anger turned away from Kiichi to direct at himself. The look on his friend’s face burned itself into his mind, furious, heartbroken and betrayed. What had he done? Why had he hurt him like that? He should have just stayed, stayed and listened, explained himself. He should have told him why he was working so hard. It wasn’t that he wanted to push himself to the limit, train until he could barely walk anymore, over and over and over again, give one hundred and ten percent without ever giving himself time to recharge. It was that he couldn’t find peace if he didn’t. He was restless, nervous, always feeling like he was wasting precious minutes of practice. What if he didn’t make it because he hadn’t given it his all? Would his chances improve if he spent just a few more minutes a day training, if he tried even harder? He knew these thoughts were irrational, but he couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t turn them off, and the only way to quiet them was by practicing till his legs gave out.

Would Kiichi have understood if he’d told him that? Would he have known a way to help him?

Now Kimishita wouldn’t know. What he’d done was wrong, but like hell he was going to crawl back to Kiichi and apologize. He was sorry for hurting him, but he was never going to regret defending himself. Kiichi had no idea how serious this was to him. His father’s fate, his own happiness, his friendship with Kiichi... it was all resting on his shoulders, a load heavier than anything else he’d ever had to bear.

He cracked a bitter smile. Kiichi had no idea. This poor oblivious idiot didn’t have the slightest clue why Kimishita was pushing himself beyond his limits. Wasn’t it ironic that it was all his fault? Wasn’t it funny that Kimishita was doing all this because he was so terrified of losing him?

He was worried about his father, of course. For as long as he could remember, his old man had lived for this store, this tiny little corner of the world that the two of them called home. No matter how much he insisted it was fine, Kimishita knew his father well enough to know he wouldn’t be. He’d miss not being able to work anymore. He’d miss their few regular customers, the neighborhood, all the people who had welcomed them into their midst, who they had helped and who’d helped them, time after time. He’d miss their small apartment, the steep stairs, the tiny rooms lying across from each other, the view down on the backyard. And he’d miss playing soccer. It would hurt him, a lot, and Kimishita knew he didn’t want that. His father deserved better. He was a kind human being who deserved the world.

But he’d manage. His father was strong. He had already started making plans for possible jobs he might take on once he got released from the hospital, even considering opening up a new sports equipment store when they moved. He’d make the best of the situation, as always. It would hurt him to leave everything he’d grown to love here behind, but he’d manage.

And Kimishita?

Kimishita would be leaving his entire life behind. Everything he’d built up over so many years, all for nothing. Seiseki would go to the Inter-High and advance to nationals without him. Kiichi would take over his role as captain, and Kurusu would take his starting spot as a midfielder. Meanwhile he’d be stuck in a completely foreign environment, lucky if he could find a school with a soccer team nearby. He’d be a complete foreigner on a team of people who’d known each other for months, or even years... or maybe he wouldn’t be accepted at all in the middle of the school year. What should he do without soccer? He wasn’t even good with people. There was no way he could make friends outside of a soccer team. Would he have to spend the last months of his high school life alone, isolated, with all his friends a long train ride away and busy with matches and tournaments?

 _Look how you sound,_ he thought bitterly. _Like a whiny lonely kid who doesn’t want to leave. As if it’s already certain you’ll have to. Pathetic._

But it was true. If this plan didn’t work out, he wouldn’t have a backup. He wouldn’t know what to do, except for arranging himself with saying goodbye to his friends, his teammates, the dream he’d shared with them.

Why was he already feeling like everything was slipping from his grasp? Why did it feel like it was all falling through his fingers like sand, slow and quiet but unstoppable?

Why was he so afraid?

_Don’t think about it. It won’t happen. Don’t think about it._

Kimishita resumed walking, shoving the cold hand of fear away from his heart, pushing it to the back of his mind where it hid with a giggle, invisible but ready to snatch him again at any second. _It won’t happen,_ he reminded himself, chanting it over and over again in his mind like a mantra. _You’re doing everything you can to keep it from happening. It won’t happen._

Something buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. His phone. Why had he taken it with him? He should have left it at home. No need to take that thing to practice.

Kimishita paused, hesitating. Part of him didn’t want to pick up. What if it was Kiichi? He didn’t want to talk to him right now. He couldn’t face him. His conscience would force him to apologize for being so harsh, and he didn’t want that, didn’t want to admit he was wrong and irrational and Kiichi had been in the right for once. But most of all he was afraid, afraid of what Kiichi would say. What if he said what he’d tried to say when Kimishita had walked out on him earlier? Would he be able to handle his words?

Why did he feel like hearing Kiichi’s words out would just make him fear failing even more?

His hand closed around the phone in his pocket, tightening its grip. One finger rested on the off button. Just press it and hold it. That was all it would take, and that thing would fall silent, together with Kiichi’s voice and everything he might want to say.

He hesitated. No, he couldn’t just do that. What if it wasn’t Kiichi? What if it was someone on the team who had a question... or what if it was his father? What if this call was important?

Alright. He could at least look at the caller ID.

Gritting his teeth, he took his phone out of his pocket, peering at the screen as if he was afraid one wrong glance would turn him to stone. _Please don’t be Kiichi. Please don’t be Kiichi. Please don’t be Kiichi._

It wasn’t. The bright letters on the screen spelled out _Ubukata_.

Ubukata? What could she want from him?

Giving a puzzled frown, he slid his finger across the screen and held the phone to his hear. “Hello?”

“Captain?” the manager’s voice came from the speaker, clear and serious. “Do you have a moment right now? There’s something important I have to talk to you about.”

 _Not beating around the bush, is she._ Well, Ubukata never did. Kimishita kind of appreciated that about her.

Still, what could be so important that she called him at this time, on a weekday, instead of just approaching him at school? “I guess I can spare a few minutes,” he said warily, his frown of confusion intensifying. “What happened?”

“Meet me at the school gate in ten minutes. I’ll tell you everything there.”

Before Kimishita had the chance to reply, she hung up.

Kimishita stared at the phone in his hand, giving it an incredulous glare as if that thing could explain what had just happened. What did Ubukata want from him? And why wouldn’t she just explain herself over the phone like she normally would, for crying out loud? Now of all times... it wasn’t like every minute counted for him right now.

Well, looked like he had no choice.

Muttering a curse, Kimishita turned on his heel and started walking in the direction of the school. Whatever Ubukata had to talk to him about so badly it couldn’t wait until tomorrow had better be important.

\---

“Captain, you’re early.”

Kimishita looked up to find Ubukata approaching him, bicycle in hand, her uniform replaced by casual clothes and her bag resting on the rack of the bike. Standing up from where he’d been leaning against the fence, he took a step towards her, meeting her stern gaze with an impatient glare. “I happened to be in the area,” he said sharply. “What did you call me out here for? I’m already busy enough!”

Ubukata’s jade eyes scanned over him, taking in every detail, every inch. Kimishita swallowed. For some reason her eyes were making him uncomfortable, as if she was looking right into his soul, reading his deepest, darkest secrets like an open book. “What?” he growled, crossing his arms in an attempt to steady himself. “Anything on my face?”

Ubukata wasn’t intimidated. She only sighed, giving him a look that was half exasperated, half worried. “Captain... were you training by yourself again?”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks. What the...?

_Again?_

Did she know? How had she found out? Nobody knew about his after-school training hours except for him and Kiichi! Was this a bluff? Was she just suspecting things and trying to get him to prove her right?

Why did he feel so trapped? There was nothing wrong with training by himself, was there? He’d just defended it to Kiichi, and he could defend it again anytime. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. So why...

He tightened his grip on his sleeves, trying to hide the panic rising inside. “I...”

“No need to lie your way out of it. I’ve seen you.” Ubukata pushed her bike to lean against the fence, stepping up to Kimishita, locking eyes with him in an unwavering display of blue-green that Kimishita couldn’t stand up to. “You’re always the first one on the pitch and the last one to leave, and from the looks of it you’ve been training even more than just at school. I’m not stupid, Captain. You’re already exhausted when you come here in the morning, and I’ve seen you on that neighborhood soccer pitch in the evening too. I live near there, remember?”

“So?” Kimishita forced himself to keep meeting her gaze, glaring at her like a defensive child caught doing something forbidden. Why was he in the defensive here? It wasn’t forbidden to work hard, damn it!

“So I’ve done research.” She crossed her arms with an accusing stare. “Do you know the risks of overtraining? Physical and emotional exhaustion, weight loss, and a higher risk of injuries. You’re already showing signs of exhaustion, and I think you’ve lost weight too.” She sighed. “Listen. I think you’re a reasonable person most of the time, so I’m just telling you this because you might need somebody to talk some sense into you. You’ve been doing way too much. There are three more days before the match, and you need to use those three days to rest, got that? Otherwise...” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and Kimishita knew what she was going to say before she did. “You won’t. Last. The match.”

Kimishita dropped his gaze. Part of him wanted to object. He wanted to tell Ubukata it wasn’t like that, he wasn’t that weak yet, he could still keep going. But Ubukata wasn’t Kiichi. She had done her research, and if she told him to stop, it wasn’t based on thoughts or suspicions. Ubukata wouldn’t come to him with something like that unless her suspicion was serious.

“I’ll be fine,” he protested weakly. “It’s not that bad–”

“Yes, it is. Listen up, Captain! I have no idea why you’re stressing out over this match and it’s none of my business anyway, but more isn’t always better. Training too much can affect your performance badly. You should know that, right?” Ubukata’s voice softened. “Breaks are important too. You don’t have to feel guilty for not spending every single free minute practicing.”

Kimishita blinked in surprise. Ubukata’s expression was uncharacteristically gentle, almost eerily understanding. She knew about his fears, he realized. And she’d known exactly what to say.

How...?

“You soccer players are all the same,” she said, rolling her eyes as if she had read his thoughts. “I had to tell Tsukamoron the same thing the other day.”

Tsukamoto. Of course. He’d do something like this.

Kimishita buried his hands in his pockets, gazing into the distance. He didn’t know if he should feel frustrated or grateful. Or embarrassed. Mostly he was embarrassed of losing sight of reality like this, of stressing himself out and becoming irrational when he was so proud of his usual level-headedness. But there were worse things than being exposed by Ubukata. If Kazama had approached him about it first... or even the first-years...

Or Kiichi. Kiichi had been right all along, and Kimishita had shut him down.

Why hadn’t he listened to him? Kiichi hadn’t been underestimating him. He had seen the same things Ubukata had, and he’d warned him about it earlier, over and over. And he hadn’t listened.

What would have happened if Ubukata hadn’t approached him in time? Would he have continued pushing himself till the match? Would he have injured himself... or collapsed?

Of course not. He wasn’t that stupid. He wasn’t that blind. He’d have been fine without Ubukata or Kiichi. His own body would have warned him if things had really been that bad.

Or had it? Had he been ignoring the warnings?

“Don’t even think about it.”

Kimishita blinked, attention snapping back to Ubukata. The manager had read him like an open book again, planting her hands on her hips as she gave him a strict glare. “I’m telling Whiskers about your condition and if you don’t rest properly, I’ll tell him not to put you in. So don’t even think about doing anything stupid! Go home and rest!”

Dammit.

It was probably for the better though.

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita sighed and nodded in defeat. “Fine.” He turned, ready to leave when he stopped again, looking back at the manager. “And thanks... I guess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just go home already!”

Kimishita wasn’t going home just yet, though. He didn’t feel like facing Kiichi at the moment. Instead his steps took him to another place... a place he’d avoided visiting for as long as possible.

\---

“If you’d told me you were visiting, I’d have cleaned up a little.”

Kimishita shifted uncomfortably in the doorframe. His father lay in bed, looking equally surprised and happy to see him, and he already didn’t know why he was here. He knew why he hadn’t come here for so long, even though he’d missed his father, even though he’d been worried sick. It hurt him to see him like this, in a hospital bed, pale, stitched together, one arm in a cast, still smiling through the painkillers. He’d always looked so happy, so strong. This wasn’t anything like he should be... like he deserved to be.

“I can’t believe you’re still making jokes,” he said quietly, dropping his gaze. “I don’t get you sometimes.”

His father gave a quiet laugh, but he didn’t sound quite as happy as he used to. “Bad times call for good jokes, Atsushi. It’s better than being sad.”

“Pops, I’m serious.”

“Hi Serious, I’m Dad.”

Kimishita grimaced. Those jokes weren’t even funny in good times, but now they seemed completely out of place. His father was so desperately trying to be his usual happy self, but Kimishita could see he wasn’t. He had aged twenty years, lines of care drawn heavy on his face, even when he tried to hide them behind fake wrinkles of laughter.

Why had he come here?

Maybe he should leave. Every part of him was aching to leave, turn around while he still could and say something about having no time and run away from this place, as far and fast as he could. Pretend he hadn’t seen anything. Pretend he hadn’t run away from the sight of his father smiling through his injuries and the threat of their whole life crashing down over their heads. He didn’t want to see him like this. He didn’t want to talk to him. Why had he come here?

But he didn’t leave. This was still his father, his only family. They hadn’t seen each other in so many days... his father must have been lonely. Kimishita had Kiichi and the team, but his father only had him, him and the doctors, and he hadn’t even bothered to visit him here.

Gaze still fixed on the tile floor beneath him, he stepped into the room, sitting down next to the bed. “Sorry for not visiting earlier.”

“It’s alright.” His father extended his uninjured hand, closing it around Kimishita’s. Kimishita relaxed into the touch, warm and familiar in every bone, every vein, every inch of rough skin worn by many years of hard work. It was a source of comfort here in this cold, unwelcoming hospital, the only bit of warmth in this empty, soulless room. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Kimishita gave his father’s hand a grateful squeeze. “Yeah.”

“You look tired.”

Kimishita shrugged uncomfortably, not looking up. “It’s been a long day.”

His father stroked his thumb across the back of his hand, slowly and gently, just the way he always had when Kimishita was little, comforting him after a nightmare and reassuring him the ghosts outside weren’t scary, that he could fight them or become their friend. “Tell me about it,” he said quietly. “How have things been going? Tell me everything.”

So Kimishita did. He closed his fingers around his father’s hand, holding on for comfort, and started to speak. He spoke about the team, the way every player was developing, how they had managed to make it to the finals of the Inter-High qualifiers and how soon the match was. He spoke about the store and the neighbors, all the good wishes their regular customers were sending him, about the handful of new faces who had shown up over the past week or two. And he spoke about Kiichi. He spoke about the way he’d insisted on helping him at all costs, how he had moved in with him and how he helped out at the store and watched out for him and tried to support him with housework chores and leading the team, and he spoke about their arguments and unnecessary fights, still as pointless and frustrating and frequent as ever.

He didn’t say anything about their last fight. And he didn’t mention his plan, the reason why he put his heart and soul into training for the finals, with one word.

His father listened quietly. He smiled at the good news, laughed at the funny stories, and when Kimishita told him about his fights with Kiichi he sighed and frowned, looking unsurprised, almost as if he knew something that Kimishita didn’t. When Kimishita finally fell silent he rested his eyes on him for a long moment, then he let go of his hand and reached out to ruffle his hair. “You’ve been doing great, Atsushi. All grown up, are you?”

Against his own will, Kimishita melted into the touch, relishing the affection he’d been missing for so long. “I guess,” he said quietly, feeling like a child.

“I’m glad you’re not alone though.” His father laughed. “That Kiichi kid really seems to like you, doesn’t he?”

Kimishita’s face heated up. “Pops!” he spluttered, bringing up a hand to hide his blush. “Don’t say weird things! Kiichi is an idiot is all. Thinks everything’s a huge deal, and...” His voice trailed off. Their last argument replayed in his head, Kiichi’s anger, his hurt expression. The betrayal on his face after Kimishita had walked out on him.

“Did you two have a fight?”

Kimishita jolted upright, blinking in shock. His father laughed softly. “Why are you so surprised?” he asked, ruffling his hair again. “I’ve known you for over eighteen years! You can’t really hide anything from me, you know.”

His smile faded, and he sighed. “If you come here looking like this, it was something serious, wasn’t it? I mean, you two fight all the time.”

Kimishita didn’t answer.

“Are you still mad at him?”

Was he? Kimishita thought back to their fight, but there was no more anger, only regret and overwhelming guilt. Kiichi had been worried... and he’d been right all along. Kimishita should have listened to him, and instead he had hurt them both.

“...not really.”

His father smiled. “Then go make up with him. He’s your friend, right?”

Kimishita took a deep breath. Then he nodded. His father was right, he needed to make up with Kiichi. As much as he hated apologizing, he hated the guilt more. And Kiichi... Kiichi was too important to him to be worth falling out with over a thing like this.

He got up. If he had the courage to apologize now, he should do it as soon as possible before he lost it again. “I’m going home, Pops,” he said, giving his father’s hand another squeeze. “Sorting things out with Kiichi.”

His father grinned, and for the first time today his smile looked genuinely proud and happy. “That’s my son!” he said. “Take care, Atsushi.”

He let go of Kimishita’s hand, and for a second Kimishita wavered. He already missed his warm, reassuring grip, and the room felt so much colder all of a sudden, so big and empty. Part of him wanted to stay here. Part of him wished he could be a child again, crawl under the blanket and rest his head agains his father’s chest like back when he was still tiny and naïve and his biggest fears were the monsters under the bed.

But he wasn’t a child anymore. He was eighteen years old and as tall as his father, and he had something to do. And there was no way he was running from that now.

\---

Kiichi was still there when he came back, sitting behind the counter of the closed shop, almost as if he’d been waiting. Kimishita stayed outside the door for a moment, glancing inside. His vice-captain was staring at something that looked like a notebook, scribbling something on the sides, looking more focused than Kimishita had seen him in a long time. Was he studying? That was nothing like him.

Kimishita took a breath to steady himself, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Kiichi didn’t respond. He simply kept staring at the notes and scribbling as if nothing had happened.

 _Of course he’s still mad._ Kimishita closed his eyes, sighing quietly. Of course it wasn’t that easy to make up with him after a fight like that. But there was no way he was giving up yet.

“Kiichi.”

Kiichi didn’t look up, but he stopped writing, staring at the paper in silence.

“Kiichi, I’m...” Damn, this was hard. Apologizing was terrifying. “I’m sorry for earlier. You... You were right all along.”

At first Kiichi didn’t respond. Then he placed down his pencil, still refusing to look up. “What gives?”

“I ran into Ubukata earlier. She told me I’m in danger of overtraining, and–”

“Oh.” Kiichi stood up, meeting Kimishita’s gaze for the first time. Kimishita shivered. His voice was thick with bitterness, and it was cold all of a sudden, as if all the warmth in the room was consumed by Kiichi’s eyes, burning with fury and disappointment. “So you don’t listen to me, but when Ubukata says the same thing suddenly I’m right, huh?”

Kimishita stared at him. What the hell was that for? Why was this idiot getting angry when he was trying to apologize?

Anger stirred inside him, roaring to life with a burst of white-hot flames. “Ah?” he growled, meeting the fire in Kiichi’s eyes with a blaze of his own. “What the hell are you going on about, you idiot?”

“What am _I_ going on about?” Kiichi burst out, storming up to him, yanking at his shirt. “Shut the fuck up! I told you a thousand times but you didn’t even listen! And then Ubukata comes along and suddenly you agree? What kind of logic is that, you asshole?”

Kimishita grabbed his wrist, trying to yank it off his collar. “Shut up!” he yelled. “You want me to listen to you? Maybe you could also try using some facts! Facts! Maybe I don’t listen to you because you’re stupid!”

Kiichi stared at him as if he’d been stabbed in the chest. The fire in his eyes flickered and went out. Slowly, he dropped his gaze, his hand letting go of Kimishita’s shirt as he stepped away, turning to walk up the stairs.

“So that’s the reason, huh?” he said bitterly, not looking back. “Well, excuse me for being stupid!”

The apartment door slammed shut behind him.

Kimishita stared after him, letting his words sink in. What had just happened?

_You idiot._

He clenched his fists, dropping his gaze to the ground, his shoulders trembling. What had he done? He’d wanted to apologize to Kiichi... and instead he had lashed out at him again, hurt him without meaning to. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why couldn’t he rein in his temper the one time it mattered?

_What in the world had he done?_


	13. Alone

Ooshiba collapsed on his futon, burying his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. All he wanted was to forget about today, forget about all that happened and wake up to discover it had all been a long, scary dream.

His chest was overflowing with emotion, so many feelings he couldn’t understand. Pain, disappointment, anger, sadness, frustration, jealousy, loneliness. Today had been a nightmare. Everything had gone terribly, horribly wrong, and he didn’t want to remember. He wanted to shut it all out and stop feeling. Why couldn’t he stop feeling?

He hated Kimishita. He hated his stupid, stupid captain for not listening to him, for not hearing him out and pushing him away and making it so painfully clear that he thought nothing of him. And he hated himself for being angry and frustrated and disappointed. Why was he so surprised? They had always hated each other. They had been sworn enemies from the very first second they met. He should never have expected a guy like him to listen to his advice, to respect him or even like him. What did he even have? Skills at soccer, yes. Rich parents. Good looks, maybe. That was all. How could he expect anyone to like him for that alone? Kimishita was right. He was just an idiot, a big child who wouldn’t grow up. No wonder his captain thought so little of him.

And yet... why couldn’t he stop loving him?

Why couldn’t he just turn off his feelings and stop loving him? It hurt him! It hurt... it hurt so much.

It hurt to see Kimishita push him away when he tried to warn him, then listen to that stupid Ubukata when she said the exact same thing. Why Ubukata of all people? What did she have that Ooshiba didn’t?

Brains. Manners. Maturity.

Kimishita’s voice echoed in his mind, razor-sharp and furious and stabbing through his heart like a burning, glowing blade.  _Maybe you could also try using some facts! Facts! Maybe I don’t listen to you because you’re stupid!_

What was with him? It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t book-smart like Kimishita or Ubukata! Did that mean he couldn’t have a valid point? Did Kimishita think everything that came from his mouth was childish nonsense, just because he didn’t get good grades?

No, Kimishita wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’t mind people being stupid. He’d listened to Captain Mizuki’s every word back in the day, even though most of it had been incomprehensible and he’d failed all his classes. This wasn’t about grades or intelligence. It was about _him_. Kimishita had said all that because he didn’t want to listen to _him_.

_Please, someone take away these feelings. I don’t want them. They’re hurting me!_

Ooshiba’s eyes burned with tears, blurring his vision, gathering on his eyelashes and threatening to fall. He wiped them away with a furious huff. Like hell he was crying over this asshole! If Kimishita didn’t like him back, fine. Who cared! He could always move on and be done with it!

Kimishita’s face flickered through his mind again. Kimishita, smiling when he started taking practice more seriously, smirking when he scored a goal. Kimishita, scoring a free kick for him even though he hadn’t wanted to take the risk, just to do him the favor. Kimishita, praising him talking to his father on the phone. Kimishita, admitting they were friends and playing soccer with him and telling him about his secrets and taking a bite from his ramen and falling asleep on his shoulder.

This guy... Why was he getting his hopes up? Why was he going around being nice to him, only to push him away in the end? He should just reject him, once and for all!

No. Who was he kidding. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Kimishita to reject him. He didn’t want to lose him. But he didn’t want this either, this uncertainty, the feeling of losing Kimishita over and over again. He...

What did he want?

He didn’t know. He didn’t understand what was happening around him. He didn’t understand himself. All he knew was that he wanted to be happy, somehow, happy with Kimishita and not all alone locked up in a small room, confused and afraid and trying too hard not to cry.

He wished Kimishita was here. He wished Kimishita would pull him into his arms and hold him close and comfort him and say it was all right, it had all been a misunderstanding and he still liked him and trusted him no matter how stupid he was.

But it wouldn’t happen. Kimishita wasn’t here. Ooshiba was alone, all alone in a room that wasn’t his, in the apartment of someone who didn’t like him back, with no company but his thoughts and fears and the bitter, stabbing pain in his chest.

A muffled sob escaped his lips, falling into the pillow like the tears that grew too heavy for his eyes, rolling off his eyelashes, streaming over his face. He gritted his teeth, but another sob followed, then another. His fingers clenched into the fabric of the pillow, furious and defiant. Like hell he was going to cry now. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t–

Another sob shook his chest, seizing his entire body like an earthquake, and Ooshiba gave in. Screw his pride. Screw everything. He couldn’t contain these emotions. Who cared if he was crying? It wasn’t like anyone would notice anyway!

Taking a hitched breath, he wrapped his arms around the pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to be strong. He just curled in on himself and let the tears overpower him.

\---

Kimishita stood outside the door, not knowing what to do.

He had come up here hoping to talk to Kiichi, to apologize and explain everything. He had expected him to get angry, to lock his door or to sulk and refuse to talk to him. But he hadn’t expected to hear him crying.

Kimishita clenched his fists. Kiichi wasn’t even crying quietly. He was sobbing his heart out, as if his very soul was about to shatter and break to pieces, like a lost, lonely child who couldn’t find his mother in the dark woods. He sounded so desperate, so heartbroken that Kimishita could feel his own heart constricting in his chest, cracking at the edges. This was all his fault. If only he’d listened to him earlier. If only he hadn’t lashed out at him and insulted him and lost his temper when he’d meant to apologize. What had he done? He hadn’t heard Kiichi cry like that in many years. He’d been terribly, terribly cruel, and now he wanted to help him, comfort him and didn’t know how.

Should he go in? He couldn’t bear to hear him crying any longer. He wanted to apologize and dry Kiichi’s tears and tell him the truth, the whole truth, that he’d been pushing himself because he was so afraid of losing him, his company, his friendship, because he didn’t want to imagine a life where they weren’t side by side, hurling insults at each other and catching each other when they fell and facing off against the rest of the world. He wanted to tell him he didn’t care if Kiichi was stupid, because Kiichi was Kiichi and he wouldn’t have him any other way. If it could help dry these tears, quiet these sobs, he’d tell him everything.

His fingers rested on the door handle. _Just go in,_ he thought. _Apologize. Explain yourself._

But what if it all went wrong? What if he lost his temper and lashed out and hurt Kiichi even more? What if Kiichi didn’t even want to hear his words of comfort? What if this was all a misunderstanding and his feelings would bring no comfort to him, only more awkwardness?

What if he walked in and lost his courage?

_Just do it,_ he tried to force himself. _Open that stupid door and walk in and sit down and talk to him. It can’t get any worse. You can only win._

He couldn’t do it.

His fingers slid off the door handle, even as Kiichi sobbed into the pillow inside, even as he cursed and scolded himself for being such a damn coward. He couldn’t do it, not right now. He was too emotional. He’d end up saying things he shouldn’t and make everything even worse. They both needed time to cool off, and then he could talk to Kiichi again, properly this time, calmly.

Or so he’d keep telling himself. A cheap lie to deny that he was just a coward, too proud and scared to confront his own emotions.

Kimishita turned around, trying to block out the sniffles, the hiccups, the desperate plea for help from Kiichi’s room, trying to pretend everything was alright and he wasn’t a heartless traitor who turned his back on his friend. Slowly, step by step, he walked away, furiously ignoring the giant lump in his own throat.

\---

He didn’t know how long he spent just staring out the window, gazing into the distance without ever actually seeing anything, blocking out all emotion from inside. He didn’t think, he didn’t feel. He was completely numb, his empty gaze locked on the horizon as the moon rose over the rooftops, dipping the restless city into a soothing silver light.

At long last Kimishita blinked, snapping out of his trance. No use standing around here moping. What time was it? How long had he been standing here? To him it felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Either way, it was too long.

He should probably get dinner ready. Look over his notes another time, go over the strategy for the finals. Maybe some of the first-years had messaged him again. Komiya was a midfielder too; he wouldn’t be too surprised if he had questions.

When he was done with all that, he should probably check up on Kiichi again.

He wasn’t procrastinating on it or anything. He wasn’t running away from it either. He just wanted to give Kiichi some space was all, space and time to calm down so they could talk things out peacefully, without getting into an even worse fight.

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he slowly made his way into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and getting out pots and pans. _Focus on the task at hand,_ he reminded himself. _Think about Kiichi later._

He didn’t have the ingredients or the energy for a complicated meal, so he just settled on omelet rice, making enough for the two of them, even with Kiichi’s appetite. One of them would have to go grocery shopping again tomorrow. Maybe they could go together too, argue over what to get and end up with a split bill and way too much junk food in the cart. Or, knowing him, Kiichi might offer to pay for it all out of pity... no, kindness.

Great, now he was thinking about Kiichi again. What was the matter with him? He needed to concentrate! Why couldn’t he do that today?

Kimishita finished cooking in a daze, completing all the motions mechanically, like a sleepwalker. All too soon dinner was done, and he had to tell Kiichi about it now, whether he wanted to or not.

_Calm down, stupid. What are you so afraid of?_

It wasn’t rejection he feared. It wasn’t the thought of hurting Kiichi that terrified him so much. It was the thought of having to tell the truth, all the feelings he had hidden away from the world because they were weak and confusing and he couldn’t even comprehend them himself. Could he really expose all that to Kiichi? He didn’t know. But he had no choice but to try.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and walked back to Kiichi’s room, clenching down on his fear and knocking on the door.

No answer. Of course not.

“Kiichi?”

Silence.

Fear and disappointment rose to his head, numbing his thoughts and blurring his judgment. Kiichi wasn’t reacting at all. What if he wouldn’t listen? What if he–

_Relax. This is normal. Just keep calling and he’ll reply eventually._

“Kiichi,” he called again, “dinner’s ready.”

He listened, but there was still no answer, not even a reaction.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Kimishita kept calling, forcing himself not to sound worried, pretending to be calm. “If you wait too long it’ll get cold, idiot.”

There was nothing. No response. No sounds of movement, no sniffle or annoyed huff, no quiet “go away.” Just silence.

Maybe Kimishita should leave. Turn back and walk away and eat dinner by himself, pretending everything was normal and they hadn’t fought and Kiichi wasn’t holed up in his room, furious and heartbroken and very upset. Pretending he wasn’t lonely, pretending he didn’t regret everything he had said and done. Pretending he didn’t miss Kiichi already.

No. Not this time.

No matter what was expecting him in there, he was facing Kiichi. He was going to talk to him and explain himself. He owed him that much.

“Kiichi,” he called, resting his hand on the door handle. “I’m coming in!”

He pushed down the handle, half expecting the door to be locked. It wasn’t. It quietly creaked open, and Kimishita took a step forward to peek inside.

The room was dark and quiet, only lit by the distant city lights and the stars above and wrapped in complete silence. Kiichi’s futon lay spread out on the floor, blanket tossed to the side in the same way it had been this morning when everything had still been fine and Kimishita had come to drag him out of bed. Kiichi was curled up on the sheets, his arms wrapped around the pillow, facing away from the door. His back was rising and falling with slow, deep breaths, calm and almost peaceful. Kimishita relaxed a little. At least he wasn’t crying anymore.

Kimishita stepped into the room, slowly walking around the futon until Kiichi was facing him and kneeling down to look at his face. Kiichi’s eyes were closed, his face half hidden in the fabric of the pillow.

Of course he hadn’t responded. He had fallen asleep.

Kimishita inched closer. Kiichi was asleep, but he didn’t look happy. Even in his dreams he still looked hurt and disappointed, a hint of sadness engraved in his features, and even the dark couldn’t conceal how red and swollen his eyes were. Rather than peaceful or relaxed, he looked like he had cried himself to sleep.

_You idiot._ Kimishita clenched his fists, not sure if the thought was directed at Kiichi or himself. This was all his fault. Seeing Kiichi like that almost hurt him more than hearing him crying, the look of pain on his face, his swollen eyes, his arms clinging to the pillow as if it was the only thing that kept him grounded. He looked so fragile, so vulnerable. Kimishita couldn’t help but want to comfort him, wrap his arms around him and pat his back and tell him it was all right, he wouldn’t hurt him like this ever again, hold him until he started smiling once more.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? He wasn’t one for affection. It was embarrassing and made him uncomfortable; he didn’t like touching others, and he hated being touched even more. And yet...

And yet Kiichi looked like he needed it. Affection. Comfort. He looked like a child who hadn’t been hugged for two long, craving affection but afraid to ask for it. Kimishita had to comfort him somehow, just a little.

What should he do? He knew nothing about this. It was uncharted territory, a thousand miles out of his comfort zone, and he had no idea what to do.

What would his father do?

His gaze strayed through the room, coming to rest on the blanket crumpled into a heap on the side. An idea popped into his head. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a beginning, a thought he could work with, at the very least.

Careful not to make a noise, he crept over, reaching for the blanket and unfolding it to drape it over Kiichi, tucking him in as well as he could. “Don’t sleep without the covers, idiot,” he said quietly, adjusting the sheets. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Kiichi took a deep breath, snuggling into the blanket, welcoming the warmth. Kimishita watched him with a hint of relief. Even if he still looked sad, his expression was a little happier now, not as bitter and heartbroken as before.

Kimishita’s hand was still resting on the edge of the blanket, unwilling to leave. The image of his father crossed his mind, ruffling his hair or gently patting his head, to praise him or to cheer him up. Maybe...

His fingers moved on their own. Before he knew what was doing, his hand strayed to Kiichi’s head, gently tangling itself in the strands, fingers carding through soft streaks of red hair.

Kiichi sighed in his sleep, melting into the touch. His body relaxed, his face softened, the sadness fading out of his features as the tiniest smile crossed his face. Kimishita smiled back. Leaning closer, he ran his hand all over Kiichi’s head, playing with his fluffy hair, gently scratching his neck and sliding along his jawline and up to his cheekbones, caressing his face with the lightest of touches. Kiichi groaned quietly and shifted, tilting his head in Kimishita’s direction the way kittens lean into a loving touch, and Kimishita’s heart felt warm and strangely full, so full it was overflowing.

He was so cute.

Kiichi was adorable, nothing more and nothing less. It was almost incredible how cute this mountain of a man could be, this giant who was a whole head taller than Kimishita, stronger and a good deal heavier. But in the end, he was just a child, a clueless kid who had yet to grow into that big body of his, rough around the edges but soft and warm on the inside.

Affection grew in Kimishita’s heart, filling his chest and spreading out through his entire body, warm and tingling. The more he looked at him like this, the more he wanted to touch him, pet him, hug him... _kiss him?_

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned. This was wrong. This was wrong on so many levels. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Kiichi was still mad at him, and here he was, petting his head like nothing had happened! And thinking about, about... what the hell? Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Mizuki had been enough. He’d learned his lesson. No more daydreaming about teammates and no more falling in love with them. One time had already been too much.

He looked down at Kiichi turning and shifting under the blanket, as if searching for the warmth of his hand that had disappeared so suddenly, and cursed himself. Shame painted his face scarlet as he stumbled away, disgust bitter in his mouth. What on earth had he been thinking? Kiichi was asleep, and he had snuck up to him and started petting his face like some creep! Even if it was just to comfort him... even if Kiichi had looked happier, even it had worked like a charm...

_Stop._

He had to stop thinking. He had to get out of here. Get away from this room, away from the sleeping beauty that was Ooshiba Kiichi, away from the temptation to shower him with all the affection he could never give him when he was awake.

...Did he want to?

He drowned out the thought before it could take shape. _Don’t think about that. Get out of here, idiot!_

Stumbling and slipping, he hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind his back. His feet carried him through the apartment, not knowing where to go and not caring. Just get away... get away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

He didn’t stop until he reached the kitchen, the bright light of the ceiling lamp almost blinding his eyes. He blinked. Little by little his brain started working again as he scanned over the room, taking comfort in the familiar sight. His eyes came to rest on the food still on the table. Oh right. Dinner. It was probably cold by now, and he’d have to eat it by himself.

Should he heat it up? He wasn’t sure if it was worth the trouble. It was just him, after all.

Probably not. Waste of time.

\---

Ooshiba woke up in the middle of the night, feeling strangely relaxed.

For a moment he had no idea what was happening. He lay in his futon, neatly wrapped in the blanket, still wearing his day clothes. What was going on? Where was he... why...

All he remembered was collapsing on the futon and breaking down crying after the fight. He remembered burying his face in the pillow, holding onto it for dear life, sobbing until he was out of breath, crying until no tears came out... and then?

Had he fallen asleep? But where did this blanket come from? Had he pulled it over himself without noticing, or...

Had Kimishita...?

As if. That guy was probably still mad at him. He probably wouldn’t talk to him again all day, and this time Ooshiba didn’t care. He wouldn’t apologize. He had a right to be mad. He had a right to sulk, and if Kimishita couldn’t understand that, fine. Not his problem.

But at the same time, he didn’t want another day of frosty silence between them. He didn’t want to see Kimishita give him the cold shoulder.

Why was this so complicated? He didn’t get it at all!

His stomach growled, bringing him back to reality. He wondered if there was any food in the house. Had Kimishita eaten dinner already? What time was it, anyway? He probably had... and as things were, Ooshiba doubted he’d left anything for him.

He stood up, taking his wallet out of his bag and stuffing it into his pocket. Fine, there was still the convenience store; he could probably get something from there. Better than raiding the fridge of someone who was still mad at him.

Walking across the room, he opened the door... and nearly stumbled over something standing on the floor.

He looked closer. It was a plate filled to the brim with omelet rice, wrapped in plastic wrap. Resting on top of it was a small handwritten note. Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat. Kimishita’s handwriting.

_Warm up in the microwave for one minute if you get hungry._

That was it. Nothing else.

Ooshiba tossed the note aside, not sure how to feel. Did this mean Kimishita wasn’t mad at him anymore? But he wasn’t apologizing. Had he just put this here out of pity?

Well, whatever. He was hungry, and here was food. He wouldn’t say no to that.

He picked up the plate and carried it back to his room. No need to heat this up. This was more of a weird midnight snack anyway.

Kimishita’s note lay forgotten in the corner. Ooshiba hadn’t seen all of it. Maybe if it hadn’t been as dark, he would have noticed the string of words hastily scribbled down at the bottom, then erased again until only traces of the pencil remained, still readable but almost invisible.

_P.S. I’m sorry._


	14. Companions

No one on the team had ever seen their captain and vice-captain like this.

They had seen them acting in many ways before. They had seen them arguing, yelling insults at each other across the field, bickering over the tiniest things and threatening to punch each other in the face. They had seen them bonding on and off the pitch, aggressively caring about and supporting each other, pulling each other out of slumps and defending each other with their lives. They had seen them after arguments, furiously avoiding each other and giving each other the cold shoulder because they were both too proud to apologize. They thought they had seen it all.

But this was new.

They hadn’t arrived together today. Kimishita had been way early, and Ooshiba had just barely made it on time, sprinting into the locker room at the very last second. Neither of them had spoken a word to the other. They hadn’t exchanged a single glance. Kimishita hadn’t passed to Ooshiba a single time during practice, and Ooshiba hadn’t demanded any passes. It was almost like a normal argument hanging between them, unresolved, if it hadn’t been for the strange tension between them.

They kept avoiding eye contact, but every time one of them wasn’t looking the other glanced at him, gazing at him from a distance as if wishing for him to turn around, quickly looking down when he did. They would stand strangely close to each other, so close one of them would only have to extend his fingers to touch the other’s hand, fiercely staring at the ground. Every time one of them looked at the other there was sadness in his eyes, and sometimes they would take a deep breath, opening their mouths as if to say something, only to quietly exhale and turn away.

They looked like a couple after a rash breakup, still wanting to be together but afraid to take the first step and fix what they had broken. And Seiseki could only watch and wonder what to do.

Kurusu was honestly relieved when practice was over and he, Nitobe, Nakijin and Shiratori were back in the safety of their classroom. Giving a loud sigh, he slumped down in his chair, stretching out his legs, leaning back his head and closing his eyes.

“Man, practice was awkward today,” he groaned, running an exhausted hand through his hair. “What the hell was wrong with the captain and vice-captain earlier? They were acting all weird!”

“Looks like they had a fight,” a voice answered behind him.

“A really bad one,” a second voice added.

Kurusu jumped five feet in the air. “Kazama! Tsukamoto!” he shrieked, spinning around to face the two culprits. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”

Kazama stepped back to hide behind Tsukamoto, instantly wrapping his arms around his waist. “Rude,” he complained with a pout. “Tsukushi would never hurt a fly!”

“I’m talking about _you!_  What’s with you and popping up out of nowhere? And what’s with you starting to do the same thing, Tsukamoto? Don’t learn from him, he’s a bad example!” Kurusu groaned and sighed at Kazama, who still looked perfectly unapologetic. “Sheesh, why are you two here anyway? You’re not even in this class!”

Kazama grinned. “We have been summoned. I can hear an interesting convo from a mile away.”

“I literally just started the conversation!”

“Enough to summon me.”

“Nobody summoned you!” Kurusu sat back down, still giving the touchy-feely couple a pointed look. “Go back to your classroom, you gross lovebirds!”

“Don’t mind him, Tsukushi, he’s just jealous.” Kazama smirked at Kurusu’s shocked face and furious blush. “Speaking of lovebirds, weren’t you guys talking about Kiichiman and Kimishita-kun?”

Nitobe shifted on the desk he was sitting on, looking confused and a little uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, but...”

Nakijin finished the sentence for him. “What do you mean by lovebirds?”

“Well,” Tsukamoto twisted around in Kazama’s arms to look up at his boyfriend, “I was about to ask the same thing, Kazama-kun...”

Kazama looked from one to the other, stupefied. Then he burst out laughing. “For real?” he exclaimed. “Where have you guys been looking? If they wrote ‘WE’RE IN LOVE’ over their foreheads in big neon letters, they’d be less obvious!”

The others looked at each other, then back at Kazama, unsure if he was joking or not. Tsukamoto turned beet red. “K-K-Kazama-kun!” he spluttered. “That’s... I-I mean... Kazama-kun, do you really... are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious, Tsukushi.” Kazama pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “I know a guy in love when I see one. But seriously, have you seen them? Kiichiman’s been all ‘notice me’ since day one and Kimishita-kun’s acting like a worried wife. And now they’re not talking to each other but looking at each other like Romeo and Juliet, or something. No clue what happened but I think they need help.”

Shiratori was the first one to frown at Kazama’s devious smile. “Let me guess, you wanna help them make up?”

“No way.” Kurusu crossed his arms. “I don’t wanna die at sixteen!”

“Me neither,” Nitobe added quickly. “I got a family and a girlfriend.”

Nakijin looked from one to the other, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He seemed hesitant to decline his help like his friends had, but in the end his fear of the ever-angry third-years won out, and he dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry... but I don’t think I can help either.”

Kurusu and Nitobe turned around to give him an encouraging grin. “Good job, Nakki!”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Kazama pouted again, pulling Tsukamoto closer. “What about you, Tsukushi? Wanna play wingman?”

“Uh, well...” Tsukamoto fidgeted nervously, scratching his cheek. “I-If it doesn’t get anyone in trouble... I guess I wouldn’t mind, I don’t like seeing them like this so...”

“Hey, no one’s gonna get in trouble.” Kazama brought up a hand to tousle Tsukamoto’s hair and kissed the tip of his nose. “You know I’ll always keep you out of trouble, Sunshine.”

Tsukamoto giggled, snuggling closer to his boyfriend while the others watched the couple’s shameless display of affection with disgust. “You sound like you have a plan, Kazama-kun.”

“I always got a plan.”

“A plan for what?”

Kazama pulled a grimace, not even having to turn around to recognize the voice. “Kurusu, you didn’t tell me you could summon demons too.”

Kurusu jolted in shock. “Hey, don’t pull me into this!”

At the very same time Ubukata marched up to Kazama, slapping him soundly over the head. “Who are you calling a demon, you idiot?”

“The girl who just slapped my head for no reason! Ow, ow, you’re gonna break my skull someday...”

Ubukata ignored him. “What plan were you talking about? What’s going on?”

Tsukamoto told her.

“These two, huh?” Ubukata sighed when he was finished, shaking her head. “Yes, they definitely had a fight. And actually I think I have a pretty good idea of what they fought over.”

\---

Why was he even here?

Ooshiba wanted to go home. He didn’t know what he was doing here today, at school, at practice, always together with Kimishita. Kimishita, who still wasn’t talking to him. Kimishita, who still wouldn’t even look at him, although he didn’t look angry anymore, just sad and awkward, almost guilty. Was he feeling bad about yesterday? Ooshiba wasn’t sure. Part of him dared to hope that maybe, just maybe the illusion was true, that Kimishita really felt bad about yelling at him and hurting him like that. But if he did... why wasn’t he apologizing? Why did he just look down every time Ooshiba tried to catch his eye, pretending to be busy with something else? Was he too proud to apologize? Did he just not care?

He didn’t understand. All he knew was that it was confusing, more confusing than anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t get what Kimishita was thinking. He didn’t even understand his own thoughts. Nothing made sense today, and all he wanted was to go home and shut his door and block out reality with music and series and video games.

The day dragged on. Every hour felt longer than the one before, every minute, every second seemed to crawl by for an eternity, always at the pace of a snail. Kimishita still didn’t talk to him. He didn’t talk to Kimishita. Sometimes he caught their teammates and classmates giving them worried looks, but he ignored them. Why did they even care? This was between him and Kimishita, no need to stick their noses into this!

He didn’t remember how he got through the day. He just knew that after a thousand eternities, he finally found himself heading to afternoon practice at last, changing quickly and walking out on the pitch, as far away from Kimishita as he could. Just a little longer, then he’d be free.

His eyes kept straying back to Kimishita doing his stretches on the other side of the field. Even from this distance he looked troubled, unfocused. Sometimes Ooshiba felt like the captain’s eyes were resting on him and quickly turned away, even though it was probably his imagination. As if Kimishita would look at him after all that had happened yesterday.

If he thought he saw Kimishita looking at him from a distance, it was probably wishful thinking.

Part of him wanted to drop everything and walk over. Take his place next to Kimishita, talk to him, try to sort everything out. They couldn’t continue like this. They weren’t supposed to be this far apart; they were supposed to stand side by side, an inseparable package deal, partners, not enemies. Seeing Kimishita stand so far away felt wrong.

Damn it, he missed this guy. It had been one day and he already missed him so much, even though he was right there, on the same team, in the same classroom, in the room across from his, walking next to him. He felt so distant now, and Ooshiba wanted him back. Every part of his mind, his body, his very being wanted him back.

Like hell he was going up to him. He was in the right! Why did he have to apologize? It was all Kimishita’s fault, he was the one who should come back to him!

But was being right really worth this? Was it worth losing the boy he loved, his captain, his partner, his best friend?

“Senpai? Senpai, are you listening?”

Ooshiba spun around, snapping out of his thoughts. Standing in front of him was Ubukata, clipboard in one hand, the other planted on her hip. His mood darkened. Ubukata. The girl whose fault it was that they’d ended up like this, the one who had brought them both into all this mess. What could _she_ want from him?

“I’d just like to ask about something,” she said matter-of-factly, ignoring the bitter glare Ooshiba sent her way. “Did Captain quit his ridiculous training menu? I’d ask him himself but I feel like he might lie to me, so...”

“He has,” Ooshiba replied coldly. Of course it was about this. Why was she going to _him_ with it? Did she want to rub salt in his wounds?

“Alright, that’s good then. I thought about asking you since you two seem to be always together, so I thought you’d know.” She nodded, threw a glance at Kimishita and looked back at Ooshiba. “Tell me if he starts again. I warned him that I’m gonna tell Whiskers not to let him play in the finals if he keeps overtraining, let’s all keep an eye out on him.”

Ooshiba gaped at her, dumbfounded.

“You...” He couldn’t believe his own words as he spoke, couldn’t believe that they weren’t just a possibility, far away and out of reach. “You threatened Kimishita... to not let him play?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he wouldn’t listen to me otherwise. You soccer players are all the same.”

Ooshiba stared at Ubukata. He couldn’t believe what she’d just told him. His head was reeling. His entire world had stopped making sense.

Kimishita hadn’t wanted to listen to Ubukata either. She’d threatened him. He wouldn’t have listened to her otherwise. It wasn’t because she was smarter, or because he liked her more than Ooshiba. She’d simply given him no other choice.

Hope sparked in his chest. A flurry of feelings danced through his mind, all at once. His eyes hurried over the field to meet Kimishita. He hadn’t chosen Ubukata over him. He hadn’t refused his warnings because it was him.

His feet moved on their own. Spinning around, he sprinted over the pitch, running towards Kimishita, to his side where he belonged.

There was still hope.

Ubukata looked after him, shaking her head. Turning around, she stepped off the pitch to stand next to Kazama and Tsukamoto, looking very pleased with herself. “Told you so.”

Tsukamoto beamed. Kazama smirked, giving her a victory sign. “You go, girl.”

\---

The footsteps stopped right next to him.

Kimishita looked up.

Kiichi stood looming over him, breathing hard from running, an intense but unreadable expression on his face. And he was looking at him. For the first time since yesterday he was looking at Kimishita, looking him in the eyes, and there was no anger in them, only a burning hot emotion Kimishita didn’t understand.

For a very long moment they just stood there, unmoving, looking only at each other. Neither of them spoke a word.

Then Kiichi took a step towards him, breaking the silence in a voice that was almost uncharacteristically quiet. “Why didn’t you tell me Ubukata threatened you?”

Kimishita looked at him in surprise. Kiichi was talking to him again. He wasn’t mad anymore... but most importantly, how did he know this detail? Had someone told him? But why?

“Maybe I would’ve told you,” he said cautiously but not without a certain edge, “if you’d heard me out.”

“Maybe I would’ve heard you out if you hadn’t gotten mad outta nowhere,” Kiichi countered in the same tone.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten mad if you hadn’t been mad first.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have been mad first if you hadn’t yelled at me and slammed the door in my face.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, looking at his feet. “Fair enough,” he grumbled, feeling guilt stab in his chest. “For once in your life you’re right, idiot.”

“Excuse you! I’m always right!”

“Except when it comes to using your head.”

“My head works better than yours! I just save up my uh... brains... brainpower for the important stuff! So I’m actually smarter than you.”

“Yeah, you use all your brainpower for deluding yourself.”

“Jerk.”

“Moron.”

Kimishita smirked to himself. These were familiar waters. This was something he felt safe in, comfortable, almost relaxed. The awkward silence was gone. The cold tension had disappeared. What was left behind was their familiar bickering, friendly, lighthearted teasing and throwing insults at each other out of habit. It was almost like nothing had happened between them, like they had never yelled at each other and slammed the doors on each other and broken each other’s hearts... like they were still friends.

Hope bubbled up inside him. Had Kiichi forgiven him? Was he not angry at him anymore? Was he not hurt anymore?

Could they finally talk again? Could they go back to normal?

Slowly, hesitantly, he ventured a glance at Kiichi’s face. For a split second their eyes met, then they both looked away, feeling strangely embarrassed. There was a silence that felt like forever, only interrupted by the shifting of their feet on the grass and the distant footsteps and voices of their teammates. Everything seemed far away compared to the quiet surrounding them.

Kimishita knew he should say something. Apologize, explain himself. Now was his time to clear up the misunderstanding. Otherwise he’d just end up hurting Kiichi again sooner or later, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that without his own heart breaking.

And yet, once again, he could’t get a word out.

Pathetic.

_Say something,_ he told himself. _Who cares if you’re in public, it’s now or never! Just spit it out, you coward!_

And yet he couldn’t say it. All the words in his head didn’t make sense anymore, forming a jumbled mess of incoherent feelings he didn’t know how to describe. His tongue lay heavier than lead in his mouth, refusing to move.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he just say it and be done?

He took a deep breath, clenching his fists. “Kiichi,” he began, “I–”

At the very same time Kiichi spoke up, drowning out his voice. “Say, did you just–”

They stopped in their tracks, looking at each other. Kimishita swallowed. Now was the chance to explain himself. Kiichi was watching him closely, waiting for him to speak again, listening with every fiber of his body. Now he could tell him everything.

“...you go first.”

Kimishita hated himself the moment he spoke the words out loud. _Coward,_ he cursed himself. _Pathetic little chicken._

Kiichi seemed surprised, but he nodded, almost as if he needed to reassure himself. “Did you just listen to Ubukata ‘cause she forced you?”

_Yes,_ Kimishita wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. It hadn’t just been her threat. He couldn’t help the feeling that it had been her choice of words, the way she’d seemed to know exactly why he was training so hard, why he couldn’t stop himself. The way she’d told him exactly what he needed to hear.

“I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “Maybe.”

Kiichi looked dejected, but not quite hurt, not this time. Kimishita still couldn’t help feeling a stab of guilt. He should explain, elaborate. He should–

“If I’d threatened to make the coach bench you, would you have listened to me too?”

Kimishita almost snorted at the thought, imagining Kiichi marching up to him and threatening him the way Ubukata had. “If you’d made it believable then maybe I would,” he snapped. “Just like I would’ve believed you I was in trouble if you weren’t such a worry-wart who freaks out over people for no reason.”

Kiichi crossed his arms, pouting. “I don’t freak out over people for no reason. That’s what you do.”

“Wha–” Kimishita gave a startled jolt, blushing. “Ah?” he growled, giving his vice-captain his angriest scowl. “The hell are you talking about, idiot?”

“I’m talking ‘bout you yelling at me for leaving my jacket at your place!” Kiichi shot back, making Kimishita blush even more. “And you call _me_ a worry-wart.”

“It’s because you are one!”

“Still should’ve listened to me!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I already admitted you were right, moron! What else do you want?”

Kiichi was silent for a moment. He turned away, dropping his gaze to the ground as he pouted, glaring at the grass at his feet. His cheeks dusted pink; his face looked conflicted, drawn with a mix of different emotions Kimishita couldn’t name.

“...I dunno.”

Kimishita instantly knew it was a lie.

But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t call Kiichi out for lying when he wasn’t being honest himself, avoiding the chance to admit how he really felt, how important Kiichi was to him and how much he wanted him to stay by his side. He knew he should. But...

But not yet. He’d tell him once his future was secure again, after he’d signed a pro contract. _If_ he got scouted, of course. He hoped for the best... but it still wasn’t certain. And if the plan failed...

If the plan failed and Kiichi knew how he felt, who knew what he might do.

No, it was right not to say anything. For now.

He walked up to Kiichi, giving him a light nudge in the ribs. “Tell me when you do know,” he said, not looking at him. “Now go finish your stretches. You’ll keep the team waiting.”

_I’m sorry, Kiichi,_ he thought, clenching his fists. _I shouldn’t be keeping this from you. But it’s for your own good. I promise I’ll tell you everything after the match._

Still, as he ran across the pitch to join his teammates he couldn’t help feeling like the world’s greatest liar.

\---

Two days went by, and the day of the match began.

Kimishita couldn’t recall ever being so nervous before any match. Last night he’d barely been able to sleep, tossing and turning for hours on end, and when he had finally slept at last he had fallen from nightmare to nightmare until the sun rose and released him from his pain. Still his entire body was tense, alert, wide awake and pumping with adrenaline. He was ready to get out there. He felt stronger than ever, itching to play. He wanted to play. He could do this.

_Breathe in, breathe out. Focus._

He let his gaze stray over his teammates, lining up behind him, ready to head to the locker room. There were nervous faces, focused, serious, excited. Kimishita took in every single one of them. His companions... his friends.

“Let’s go,” he said simply, stepping forward to lead the way. The others were starting to follow him when a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back.

“Captain, wait a sec.”

Kimishita tensed up. Kiichi.

Why was he so nervous? They had started talking again. They were back to normal. And yet, he couldn’t help feeling like something was different this time.

Waiting for everyone else to pass by, he turned around, warily looking at Kiichi’s face. His vice-captain looked more focused than he had ever seen him before, furiously determined.

“What do you want?”

Kiichi grabbed his shoulders and slammed their foreheads together, making Kimishita see stars.

“Today, don’t think about the team,” he said, and it wasn’t a request; it was a demand. “Just play for yourself! Try to stand out and make those scouts notice you. Leave the team to me!”

Kimishita gaped at him. Had he just heard him right?

“Kiichi,” he began hesitantly, “you–”

The grip on his shoulders tightened. “Leave it to me. I’m the ace for a reason!”

This idiot.

Kimishita felt something stirring in his chest, an overwhelming mixture of joy, sadness and gratitude. Ooshiba Kiichi, Seiseki’s self-proclaimed ace who loved nothing more than standing out on the field, was telling _him_ to play selfishly and rely on his teamwork. All because he knew how important this match was to him.

Swallowing the odd lump in his throat, Kimishita brought up his arm, squeezing the large hand resting on his shoulder. “That’s not necessary, idiot,” he grumbled quietly, his eyes following the pattern of Kiichi’s shirt. “But... thank you.”

\---

He could do this.

He was soaring across the field as if he’d grown wings. His footsteps were flying over the pitch as if he was running on air, swift and tireless. His passes landed exactly where he wanted them, deadly precise, unstoppable. Nobody could hold him back. He was strong. He was free. He could do this.

Kimishita took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the freshly mowed grass under his feet and listening to the voices, the cheers, the footsteps. The ball was at his feet, and he was headed for the goal. It was all like his dream. Nobody could stop him. He could make it come true and score.

Just a few more steps.

He picked up his pace, tuning out the voices. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for defenders in his way, searching for openings. Faster. He was almost there, almost–

Someone shouted something behind him. He didn’t catch the words. He just sensed the shadow approaching him from the side.

Defender.

He had to dodge.

Clicking his tongue, he spun around, making a sharp turn to avoid his opponent. He wouldn’t be stopped. He was faster. He was...

What was happening?

The world swayed from side to side. The ball disappeared from his vision. The ground came closer and closer.

What was happening? Why was he on the ground?

He had to get up. He had to...

And then he felt it.

He felt the reason. He felt it until his senses could feel nothing else, until his face distorted in a bitter attempt to fight it off.

Radiating from his ankle was a pulsing, stabbing pain.


	15. Unfair

The world went quiet.

Noises reached Kimishita from a distance, footsteps, voices, the referee’s whistle. They all sounded remote, far away, as if they were reaching him from another galaxy or another world. He faintly registered a voice calling his name. Kiichi’s voice.

What was happening?

He tried to turn around, turn in the direction Kiichi’s voice seemed to come from, but his body wouldn’t move. No part of him would obey the desperate commands of his mind. All he could do was lie on the ground and tremble with pain.

Was this it? Was this the end?

He gritted his teeth, biting down on the pain. Not yet. He could still get up. It wasn’t that bad... he just had to...

His legs gave way underneath him. Another wave of pain shot up from his ankle, pulsing through his left leg. What was... He hadn’t even... why...

“Captain!”

Kimishita looked up. Kiichi was standing in front of him, extending a hand, his face drawn with worry, spite and blinding fear.

Kiichi? Why was he here? Hadn’t he been on the other side of the pitch just a second ago?

“Captain!” Kiichi called again, and his voice reached through the quiet, through the pain, through the distance that had wrapped itself all around Kimishita, the void of emotion. Kiichi’s voice wasn’t remote. It was _there_ , right next to him, frantic and panicked and very much _real_. “Captain, are you okay?”

Something stirred in his chest. An emotion pierced through the haze, clear and sharp and so violent he forgot about his pain. A rush of stubbornness, burning hot determination. It wasn’t over yet. He couldn’t stop playing now. Who cared about his ankle. Who cared about pain. The team was counting on him. Kiichi was counting on him. He couldn’t quit now!

“I’m... fine,” he gritted out, forcing himself upright. His left leg gave way underneath him. He clenched his teeth and reached up to clasp Kiichi’s extended hand, letting his vice-captain pull him to his feet. His ankle hurt like crazy. His leg was shaking. Every part of his body wanted to collapse back on the ground and curl up in pain, curl up until the pounding stopped, until his ankle stopped feeling like it was being torn apart with every second.

No. He wasn’t giving up. His leg hurt, but he’d keep playing. The match had only just started. He couldn’t stop now.

“What are you standing there for?” he yelled at his teammates crowding around him with worried faces. “Quit staring and go back to playing! The match’s not over yet!”

They frowned at him for a second, as if they wouldn’t quite believe his words, and for a moment Kimishita actually feared that they didn’t. But in the end they sighed with relief, some laughing, some smiling, and returned to their positions. Kimishita relaxed a little. They’d bought it. Now his own body just had to buy it too.

He was just about to turn around when he noticed Kiichi still standing next to him, giving him a look he understood without words. _You liar._

Kimishita narrowed his eyes, putting a finger to his lips as he gave his vice-captain a warning glare. _Don’t you dare tell anyone._

Gritting his teeth, he turned, running across the pitch. His foot hurt. It hurt more with every step, his entire leg tearing apart from the inside, radiating red, pulsing pain throughout his body. His vision flickered, blurring at the edges. His head was reeling. The urge to fall down and collapse on the ground became more irresistible with every step.

No. He couldn’t give in. This wasn’t just a match. This wasn’t just the last step before nationals. This was his last chance to stay at Seiseki, his last chance to hold onto the future as he’d imagined it, his last chance to save his father from giving up the home and store that had belonged to his family for three generations. He was stronger than an injury. He had to get to the ball... had to pass, had to score, had to...

His vision blurred. He staggered, losing his balance. The pain in his leg was ever-growing, almost impossible to hide, the urge to grimace and cry out and clutch his ankle growing more and more unbearable.

No. Not yet.

Taking a sharp breath, he swallowed the pain. Just a little longer. He wouldn’t last the match, but he had to last just a little longer. Just till the halftime break. That was all he asked for.

The ball. Where was the ball?

Where was he?

Why was the world swaying? Why was it going dark? Why was the ground growing closer and filling out his field of vision?

No! Not yet! _Please!_

Something stopped his fall. A pair of hands flew up against his shoulders, pulling him back upright. A chest caught his head as it tipped forward. Kimishita saw black and the white jersey number 7. The number of the ace.

“Hey!” Kiichi’s voice bellowed over the pitch, shaking and desperate and way too loud. “Somebody help him! Help him out!”

Hands wrapped around his arms, pulling him away from Kiichi’s supporting hold. Kimishita felt himself being led away, gently propped up from both sides. He had no idea where they were going. And he didn’t care. It was over.

Feeling numb and tired, he looked up at the clock. Twenty minutes.

The one match he had bet everything on, and he’d been subbed out after twenty whole minutes.

\---

Ooshiba stared after him in silence.

Twenty minutes. Twenty goddamn minutes.

Kimishita had put his all into this match. He had set all his hopes and dreams on it. He had worked his heart out. He had trained day and night. He had worked himself to exhaustion, pushed himself to the breaking point. He’d wanted to make today the best match he’d ever played, to shine on the field and win the eyes of the scouts and leave the pitch as a winner, a champion who had defeated misfortune.

He had put so much work into it, only to be subbed out after twenty stupid minutes.

It wasn’t fair!

Ooshiba clenched his fists, holding in his rage. It was so unfair. It was so frustrating! _Why Kimishita?_ he wanted to ask, wanted to grab whoever was responsible for this and shake them and yell at them till they took back their decision. _He’s done nothing to deserve this! Why him? Why now? It’s not fair!_

But there was no one responsible, nobody he could punch in the face for hurting his friend and captain, for taking all his hopes and crushing them like that. He could only clench his fists and stare at Kimishita’s retreating back as he stumbled off the field, escorted by two medics.

A lump caught in his throat, cutting off the air. Even now Kimishita still stood tall and proud, unbending even as he admitted defeat, like a lone knight walking home after a lost battle. He was trying to stay strong, Ooshiba realized, for the team. He didn’t want them to worry... he wanted to encourage them. He wanted them to think it was only an injury and not the last match they’d ever play together.

And then Ooshiba realized it. The captain was gone. The team needed a leader. Somebody had to carry on their hopes and dreams, or they’d get discouraged.

He looked at his teammates’ faces, worried and confused. He looked at Komiya, standing on the side ready to sub in, nervous and fumbling. He looked at Kimishita’s back, still stubborn and upright as if he was trying to send him a message.

_Lead the team, Kiichi._

He didn’t even need to think about it.

“Seiseki!” he roared, his voice bellowing over the field. His teammates glanced up from where they stood, turning to face him. “Let’s go!”

An enthusiastic chorus of “Yeah!” erupted all over the field. Ooshiba straightened his back. He could feel Kimishita’s eyes on him, green and intense, conveying a message he didn’t have to put into words to understand.

_I know,_ he thought, fixing his eyes on his captain. _This is the least I can do now. I’m gonna lead the team to victory! Just you watch me, Kimishita!_

\---

He was on fire. All throughout the first half he’d been on fire.

Ooshiba stormed off the field, feeling stronger than ever. He didn’t know where he was getting all this strength from. Normally he should be spent by now, completely exhausted, but today he was exploding with raw power, a rocket that refused to slow down. Maybe it was all the practice he’d gone through lately. Or maybe it was because today he was driven by something stronger than the desire to shine, stronger even than his greed for attention and victory.

It didn’t matter now. He didn’t care what was driving him, as long as it kept him going. Right now there was only one thing on his mind, only one thing that mattered.

He sprinted up the stairs to the locker room, taking three and four at a time. Speeding down the hallway, he rushed to the door, slamming it open to storm inside. “Captain!” he called, breathless and frantic. “Captain, are you okay?”

Kimishita was sitting on the bench, a towel draped over his head and shoulders, obscuring his eyes. He had taken off his left shoe, and his foot was wrapped in layers and layers of tape, an ice pack tied to his ankle. He looked up when Ooshiba rushed inside, his eyes betraying no emotion.

“Kiichi,” he said calmly, as if everything was all right. “How’d it go?”

Ooshiba stared at him, perplexed. “What are you talking about?” he burst out, grabbing his collar with both hands. “Don’t ask that when you should think about yourself, moron! How can you look so calm when you–”

“Kiichi.” Kimishita’s eyes caught fire, flickering and glowing dangerously. “Shut up.”

Ooshiba glared back, holding his gaze for a moment. Then he looked down. Kimishita was right, he should shut up. The others were right behind him, walking up to the room one after another.

Huffing, he let go of Kimishita’s collar, stepping back to pout at him. “We’re doing fine,” he said, not without spite. “We’re one-zero in the lead, Kazama scored a couple minutes after you left. But I’m gonna score too!” He raised his head, pointing at his chest. “Two goals! One for me and one for you!”

For a split second something glimmered in Kimishita’s eyes, a spark of emotion, surprise and moved gratitude that disappeared as quickly as it came. “Don’t overdo it, idiot,” he said, lightly whacking Ooshiba over the head. “Concentrate on keeping our lead.”

Before Ooshiba could say anything in return, the team crowded in, surrounding Kimishita and flooding him with questions and updates on the match. They asked him over and over if he was all right, how his ankle was doing, if it was a serious injury, when he’d get to play again. Everyone was talking at the same time, and Kimishita was growing increasingly annoyed.

“Shut up,” he finally snapped, giving his teammates a death glare. “You wanna know something or do you just wanna listen to yourselves talking, huh?”

Everyone fell silent. Tsukamoto and some of the first-years mumbled apologies.

“Now,” Kimishita said with a sharp look, “ask what you want. One after another! If I catch two of you talking at the same time I’m making you run laps, got that?”

They all jolted with a hectic nod. For a second there was silence. Everyone was looking at everyone, awkwardly waiting for someone to go ahead and speak first.

“How’s your ankle?” Ooshiba said at last. His voice sounded too loud and frantic in his own ears, too panicked. “You can still play in the second half, right? _Right?_ ” _Please say yes. Please say it’s not over yet!_

“He can’t.”

Ooshiba spun around. Standing outside the crowd was Coach Nakazawa, looking years older than usual and much more tired. “He had it looked at, and it looks like this injury isn’t just a simple sprain. They said it’s probably because he strained his body too much. He’ll take weeks to recover.”

Ooshiba stared at him in horror. Weeks. Kimishita wouldn’t be able to play for weeks.

They didn’t have that kind of time.

“Don’t gimme that!” he burst out, grabbing the coach’s shoulders. “He needs to play today! He can’t wait for weeks! It’s now or never!”

Coach Nakazawa only gave him a sigh, sad and exasperated and very tired. “No can do.”

“Please!” Ooshiba’s voice was shaking with urgency, loud and shrill with panic and fury. “Just this halftime! Just a couple minutes! Let him play five more minutes! Please, Coach!”

“I said no!” the coach replied, slowly getting angry. “I would if I could, but if I make him play now it might get even worse. I’ll be responsible if he never recovers again, get that into your head, Ace!”

_If he never recovers again..._ Ooshiba shook his head. He shouldn’t think about it. “Please!” he begged again, knowing how pathetic he sounded, how desperate. “It can’t be that bad! If something happens, I’ll take responsibility! I–”

“Kiichi.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Ooshiba turned around to meet Kimishita’s gaze, cool and steady and unnaturally calm. “Leave it.”

He spun around to fully face the captain, ready to protest. “But–”

“Cut it out already, you moron!” Kimishita snapped. “Even if I could play again, a player who’s been subbed out can’t get subbed back in! Did you even consider that with that empty head of yours?”

Ooshiba stared at him without comprehending a thing. How could he be so calm? How could he act like all of this was no big deal? All his plans had just been ruined! This might have been his last match with Seiseki and he didn’t even look frustrated, damn it!

_Quit acting cool,_ he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. _Don’t you feel a thing at all? Why am I the only one who’s frustrated and pissed off? It’s not fair!_

Kimishita met his furious gaze with a cool green one, but this time there was a spark of _something_ in his eyes, an indescribable emotion Ooshiba couldn’t understand. For a moment he thought his friend understood his thoughts, read his feelings like an open book like he so often did.

Then Kimishita turned around, facing the team with a well-practiced frown. “Good job getting in the lead, everyone,” he said, resting his hands on his hips. “Keep that up! Good goal, Kazama.”

Kazama grinned and gave him a V sign. “No prob, Captain.”

“Nimrod!”

Tsukamoto looked up with nervous blue eyes. “Yes?”

“You better score a goal too! You’re not a forward for nothing!”

Tsukamoto gave an energetic nod and bowed slightly. Kimishita gave him the hint of a smile before scowling again, his eyes straying to the boy next to him. “Kurusu!”

“Yes, Captain?” Kurusu’s voice meandered somewhere between anxiousness and annoyance.

“Put more variety in your passing! You always use the same handful of tricks, the opponent will see through that!”

“You didn’t even watch m–”

“I don’t have to watch you to know how you always play, moron! You’re filling someone else’s shoes right now, so use your head!” Kimishita clicked his tongue and turned over to the next player, who was anxiously snapping to attention under his gaze alone. “Komiya!”

The first-year fidgeted, going pale. It was obvious that he was already imagining all kinds of possible criticism in his head, things Kimishita might throw at his head, things he was very much aware of himself. “Y-Yes?”

Kimishita’s expression softened, and he reached out to give Komiya an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Don’t lose courage. You’re doing well.”

The boy gazed at him with wide eyes, then he blushed, his face looking as if he was holding back tears. “Yessir!”

Kimishita gave the team another good look, his eyes scanning from one to the next, taking in every detail. “That’s all,” he declared. “Keep playing forward and defend our lead. I’ll be watching from the bench.”

The team crowded together into a huddle, and their battle cry echoed from the walls, loud and fierce and powerful. Ooshiba stood next to Kimishita, draping his arm around his shoulders, trying to send silent comfort to him through his tight grip, or maybe looking for comfort, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to resist the urge to pull Kimishita in, pull him out of the circle and into his arms and hold him close and tell them both that somehow everything was going to work out, that this wasn’t the end, that this plan had failed but there was still another way. But he didn’t do any of that. Too many people watching.

They walked back to the field after the break, Ooshiba stubbornly walking at the back beside Kimishita even though he should be going ahead and lead the team now that he had to step in as captain. He didn’t care. For these few precious minutes he wasn’t the vice-captain of Seiseki; he was Kimishita’s friend, and despite everything he knew the captain wasn’t okay, couldn’t be as okay as he’d made the team believe. He probably needed support.

And yet Ooshiba didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to encourage him. He was too shocked and frustrated and afraid himself; he couldn’t tell Kimishita it would all be okay when he couldn’t even get himself to believe that. What should he tell someone who had just lost his only hope? How could he make him feel better instead of just making things worse?

“Captain,” he began quietly, “I, uh...”

“Later.” Kimishita stopped walking, about to turn to the side and sit down on the bench. “Go out and play, idiot. You’re keeping the team waiting.”

“But I...” Ooshiba’s voice trailed off. “Fine, I’m going. Anything else you want me to do?” _On the pitch or off?_

Kimishita gave him a look that was half irritation, half fond exasperation. Then he sighed, giving Ooshiba a light punch in the side. “Keep your promise.”

“Of course!” Ooshiba raised his head with a pride he didn’t feel. “I’m gonna score two goals and become the hero of this match! Keep your eyes on the ace, Captain!”

He didn’t really feel like boasting and bragging right now. But the team needed it. Kimishita needed it too, or he’d start worrying. And maybe he himself needed it too.

Burning with determination, he turned around and sprinted over to his position.

\---

Ooshiba kept his promise.

He scored a goal in the first ten minutes of the second half, and another one in a free kick at the very end of the match. Tsukamoto scored a third one, and Seiseki won four-three.

They had made it. They were going to the Inter-High.

Ooshiba pumped his fists in the air, adrenaline still rushing in his veins, joining his teammates in their cheers and hugs and high fives and laughter and tears of joy. They had made it. All together they had done it again. They were one of the best teams in Tokyo. They were going to nationals. And Ooshiba had scored two goals; he had broken the tie at the last minute, he had kept his promise and led the team to victory. Today he wasn’t just the ace or the vice-captain. He was a hero.

And yet he couldn’t be as happy as he’d hoped to be. As his eyes strayed to the bench his joy faded, and when he saw Kimishita’s proud smile his gaze dropped to the ground, a pang of regret shooting through his chest. They had made it, but without Kimishita. Kimishita hadn’t played with them. Kimishita... might not play with them again, ever.

They were going to nationals, but they were going without him.

Ooshiba watched as his teammates moved on, tackling him with hugs and dog-piling him, blissfully unaware of the meaning this match, this injury had to him. He watched as they walked back to the locker rooms, still laughing and cheering and celebrating. Swallowing hard, he hurried and followed. There was only one thought of his mind. He had to get to Kimishita, get him alone, as fast as possible.

He had almost reached the hallway when a voice made him stop in his tracks. “Number seven... Ooshiba Kiichi-kun, is it?”

He spun around to glare at the strangers, hoping they’d go away. Whatever they wanted from him, they’d better back off. He didn’t have time for them now.

The strangers, a man and a woman, didn’t look fazed at all. In fact, they gave him a friendly smile, and the man stepped forward, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ooshiba-kun. Do you have a moment?”

“Not really,” Ooshiba cut him off, irritated. “I’m in a hurry.”

The man smiled understandingly. “Well, then I’ll keep it short. We’re coming from Tokyo Victory, I’m sure you’ve heard of our club. We were very impressed by your playing today.”

“Our question is,” the woman continued, “after you graduate... would you like to play for us?”


	16. Tears

Ooshiba stared at them in disbelief. Disbelief turned into realization, and realization turned into horror.

This wasn’t happening.

Kimishita had wanted a pro contract. He had needed one, badly. And Ooshiba was the one to get it.

This was wrong.

He shook his head violently. Blinked. Shook his head again. The two were still there, wearing friendly smiles as if nothing had happened.

“Sorry to overwhelm you like this. I understand if it’s a little out of the blue,” the woman said, and Ooshiba resisted the urge to lash out at her. _Don’t act like you understand a thing! You don’t know shit!_

“But please think it over,” the man added, completely ignoring the way Ooshiba glared at him like a cornered beast, hoping for nothing more than for him to go away. “It’s a great opportunity, and–”

“Who else did you ask?” Ooshiba interrupted him, frantic and hopeful. Maybe they had offered Kimishita a contract too, maybe all wasn’t lost. “Did you ask the captain?”

The scouts looked at each other in confusion, then back at him.

“Did you?” Ooshiba insisted, and the moment he spoke the words he knew how the answer would be.

“No,” the woman said gently. “He played well, but since he was subbed out we didn’t see enough of him to tell if he’s fit for our team. We’ll have to observe him a bit longer, but the odds are good that–”

Ooshiba stomped his foot like a spiteful child. “You can’t observe him longer!” he exploded at them, a mess of panic and frustration and fury. “He needs that contract now! _Now!_ It’s an emergency!”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but we can’t help him!” The man was starting to get angry himself, and it was only making Ooshiba more furious. “We have a job, do you even realize that? If he doesn’t play well, we’ll get in trouble! We’re a pro soccer club, not the public welfare!”

“He does play well!” The thought that Kimishita might not be good enough for them just made Ooshiba angrier. “He plays better than your stupid pro players! He injured himself because he trained too hard, okay?”

“Then he’s a hazard!” the woman cut in, and her raised voice silenced them both. “He’s injured, what if he doesn’t recover properly? We have to wait at least till he can play again and then...”

_At least till he can play again._ That meant weeks, if not months. Time they didn’t have.

There was nothing. Nothing he could do. No way to help Kimishita.

A wave of guilt washed over him. Why? Why was all this happening? Why had it been Kimishita of all people? Why today? Why was _he_ getting offered a pro contract when Kimishita needed it and couldn’t get one?

He wished it had been him. He wished he’d been injured instead. It should have been him.

He didn’t want this. For all his life he had dreamed of a situation like this, of playing a perfect match and being offered a contract for one of the best teams in the country. And now that he had it, he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to go pro without Kimishita. He didn’t want to play soccer without him. He didn’t want to accept this offer and feel like a stealing, backstabbing bastard.

He clenched his fists. “Then, then...” he said, his voice and whole body trembling, shaking with emotion. “Then I won’t accept it! I won’t play for you!”

Their eyes widened with surprise. The man was about to yell at him again, but the woman stepped in his way. “Ooshiba-kun, I understand that you feel bad about your teammate,” she said annoyingly gently. “But at least think it over. Here, I’ll give you my card, just notify me if you change your mind.”

As if he would!

“Like hell I will!” Ooshiba burst out, snatching the card from her hand as he stormed past the scouts. “I’ll never play for your team! Never! Not in a lifetime!”

They said something behind him, but he didn’t care. The business card crumpled in his clenched fist. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to hear them. There was only one person he wanted to see right now, and he’d kept him waiting long enough already.

Picking up his pace, he raced down the hallway, not even caring how heavy his legs felt with every step. He didn’t care. All he knew was that he had to get to Kimishita.

\---

Kimishita didn’t turn around when the door slammed open. He didn’t turn around when Kiichi rushed and stumbled inside, coming to a halt behind him, catching his breath.

The locker room was empty except for the two of them. The bus was waiting, and the team had already gone ahead to take their seats. Kimishita had stayed behind. To wait for Kiichi, he’d said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. But mostly he had wanted a few minutes to himself, a few minutes of quiet without everyone else’s joy rubbing salt in the wounds he didn’t want people to see.

But now Kiichi was here. Kiichi, who knew everything. Kiichi, who was probably worried sick.

“Good game,” he said without turning around, his voice so level and calm he could have fooled anyone into thinking nothing was wrong. “You played well.”

Kiichi’s voice was rough as he replied, shaky, as if it could barely contain all the emotion bottled up inside. “Thanks.”

“Good job leading the team.”

“I...” Kiichi’s voice trailed off, and he continued in a mumble, sounding like a pouting child. “It was nothing.”

Kimishita took a deep breath. “You’ll make a good captain.”

Kiichi didn’t respond at once. Then there was a sharp intake of breath, a foot stepping closer to Kimishita’s back. A pause of hesitation.

“How much longer are you gonna keep playing the tough guy?”

Kimishita froze. Kiichi knew. Of course he did. He had been stupid to think he could lie to him, that he could hide his true emotions from him. Kiichi knew him too well.

_Calm down. No need to show him. No need to make him worry even more._

“What are you talking about?” he said sharply, annoyance seeping into his voice. “I’m not acting. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are!” The emotion in Kiichi’s voice boiled over, trembling and shaking with disappointment and frustration and anger. “Don’t just pretend you’re not feeling a thing! You beat yourself up over this! You overworked yourself for today! You called today your only chance! Are you telling me I’m the only one who’s upset here? Don’t lie!” He took a shaky breath, his voice threatening to crack at the edges. “You’re upset too, right? _You’re frustrated, right?_ ”

Of course he was.

Of course he was sad. Of course he was disappointed, bitter, frustrated. Of course he was terrified. But he couldn’t show that. He couldn’t show the storm of feelings raging in his chest, or there was no knowing what Kiichi would do.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, forcing down the lump in his throat, the tremor in his voice, the way it was cracking and crumbling and threatening to break. “This isn’t the end. I’ll come up with something.” _Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it someday._

Kiichi took another step towards him, standing so close Kimishita could feel the heat radiating from his skin, seeping into him like the temptation to turn around and close the distance between them. Close the distance and seek support in Kiichi’s presence, his inviting warmth that was caressing his skin like a breath of comfort.

The lump in his throat grew bigger. He felt choked up, unable to breathe. The emotions bottled up inside him were boiling, threatening to spill out. Why was he even trying? It was just Kiichi. He didn’t have to be strong for him.

Kiichi’s voice was quiet as he spoke again, shaky and hesitant. “What are you gonna do now?”

_I’ll think of something,_ Kimishita wanted to say. _I’ll come up with a plan. I won’t surrender yet._

But that would be a lie.

Tears welled up behind his eyes. His throat felt too tight, the giant lump cutting off all air. His voice broke and shattered to pieces as he whispered three words, three simple words that left his mouth before he could hold them back. “I don’t know.”

“Captain...”

A large pair of hands grabbed Kimishita’s shoulders, spinning him around. For a split second Kimishita found himself face to face with Kiichi, a split second that engraved its image into the depths of his mind. Red hair, wind-tossed and streaky and drenched with sweat. Cheeks red from the exercise, bruised and streaked with dirt. Pale lips, trembling like a pair of dry leaves in the wind. Turquoise eyes glistening with barely-contained tears, tears that gathered on dark eyelashes, threatening to fall at any second.

Then Kimishita found himself pulled into a tight hug.

He stiffened. Kiichi’s body felt too real against his, filling out his consciousness, too present and too much _there_. He could feel every single inch of his skin and shirt in detail, the tiniest folds of clothing, the slightest flutter in his heartbeat. Kiichi’s warmth seeped through his clothes, and the parts where he touched him felt too warm, so much warmer than the cool evening air. Kiichi’s arms were trembling... no, his entire body was trembling, shaking with quiet sobs as he pulled Kimishita closer to his chest.

“What are you...” Kimishita’s voice failed him. He tried to push Kiichi away, tried to escape from this embrace and run before his heart broke for real, but he couldn’t move an inch. “Why are _you_ crying?”

Kiichi hiccuped and sniffled, momentarily letting go of Kimishita’s back only to grab his shoulders, facing him straight on, tears streaming from his eyes. “Why aren’t _you?_ ”

Inside Kimishita’s chest something cracked and broke.

His vision blurred. The tension left his body. The last of his defenses shattered and came tumbling down with a crash. What was he trying for? He wasn’t the team captain of Seiseki right now. He didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t _want_ to be strong. He didn’t want to bottle up all these feelings and lock them away from the world. He was tired. He was hurting. He had lost his last hope, and he didn’t want to pretend not to feel anymore.

He wasn’t the captain right now. He was just a human being, with fears and emotions and a heart beating in his chest. It was okay to be fragile sometimes.

It was okay to cry.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Kiichi and holding him tightly, taking comfort in his presence, in the strength of his broad back. He buried his face in Kiichi’s shirt, the tears that had been gathering in his eyes for so long finally falling down and soaking into the fabric as he melted against him, crying in silence. Kiichi tightened his hold on him, pulling him closer, so close that Kimishita could barely breathe, but he didn’t care. It felt so good, so right. He never wanted to break away from this ever again.

Kimishita didn’t know how long they stayed together like this, holding each other and crying. For the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about the future, about consequences, about anyone else except for the two of them, standing heart to heart, sharing the same frustration and the same sorrow. He could always do that later. For now it didn’t matter.

At long last they calmed down, and Kimishita stayed in Kiichi’s arms for a long moment, unwilling to pull away. Then he sighed in defeat, slowly loosening his hold on Kiichi’s back, hesitating when the arms around him tightened their grip in response.

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving Kiichi a gentle nudge. “The others are waiting for us. They’ll get worried, idiot.”

Kiichi pulled him even closer, crushing the air out of his lungs. “Who cares,” he mumbled, sounding like a stubborn child. “The others can suck my–”

“You want them to find us like this or what? Good job getting them blackmail material, moron!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, his face reddening at the thought. “Let go already, stupid.”

Kiichi didn’t react, and for a second Kimishita was afraid that he’d refuse again. Then he gave an unwilling groan, slowly loosening his hold until Kimishita stepped back, out of his reach before he could change his mind. A wave of cold air greeted him. Against his will Kimishita found himself missing the warmth of the embrace, secretly hoping Kiichi would wrap his arms around him again and not let go this time.

No, he shouldn’t think that. The team was waiting, and so was the bus.

“Get your stuff,” he said bluntly, motioning to Kiichi’s bag still lying on the bench, untouched. “If we keep the others waiting any longer they’ll file a missing person report. Let’s go.”

Kiichi pouted but nodded, quickly slipping into his tracksuit and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Kimishita was about to open the door and step outside when Kiichi caught up to him, slinging an arm around his side.

Kimishita stopped walking. “What are you doing, idiot?”

“You’re still hurt, right?” Kiichi pointedly stared in the opposite direction, away from him. “Lean on me.”

Kimishita wanted to protest, but the feeling died down in a second. He was too tired to quarrel, and Kiichi was right. He was injured, and it was probably better if he rested his foot.

Side by side they walked and stumbled back to the bus, climbing on after everyone else had already made themselves at home and sitting down at the very back, right next to each other. If their teammates questioned their late arrival or their swollen red eyes they didn’t mention it with a word.

\---

They were the last ones to get off the bus and the last ones to leave the school grounds and head home. Kimishita didn’t want to leave, and Kiichi didn’t rush him. They both knew this might well have been his last match with the team, and Kimishita wanted to take in this atmosphere a little longer, his friends and companions buzzing and talking with excitement, smiling and celebrating and making plans to hang out somewhere and arguing if they should go for food or karaoke and deciding to do both. He wanted to take it in, this air of happiness and familiarity, this lighthearted warmth of friendship and family, still crackling and bubbling with post-victory joy. He wanted to take this feeling and lock it in a can that he could open every time he felt lonely, every time he missed all these people and come back to this exact moment, see everyone’s smiles and hear their voices and feel the rays of the setting sun on his skin.

But at last the team scattered and parted ways, and he and Kiichi were the only ones left in the school’s parking lot, the orange sky slowly turning purple over their heads as the shadows grew ever longer. They exchanged a quiet glance. Kiichi wrapped an arm around his side and wordlessly pulled him closer, and Kimishita took the offered support with gratitude, leaning on Kiichi’s shoulder as they slowly walked home. Neither of them said a word. They were both lost in their own thoughts, thoughts that got darker as the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the shadows around them grew.

By the time they arrived at the store entrance it was fully dark except for a small silver lining on the horizon, and the first stars were starting to twinkle out, but Kimishita didn’t miss the clouds forming in the distance, drawing closer and promising rain to come. Still not speaking a word, he pulled away from Kiichi, taking his keys out of his pockets and unlocking the door, carefully stepping inside. His foot still hurt a little, but he could walk on his own now. They had taped it up earlier, taken care of it as well as they could, even if he should probably still have it checked up at the hospital sometime. As if he could afford even more medical bills.

He climbed up the stairs, ignoring the light pain in his ankle, and unlocked the apartment door to walk in and switch on the lights. Kiichi followed close behind, so close that Kimishita wondered if he was preparing to catch him if his foot failed him. He stopped walking after Kimishita closed the door behind them, and just when he was about to head off to his room Kimishita felt a hand curling around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Captain, wait.”

Kimishita turned around. “What?”

“Are you...” Kiichi dropped his head, his bangs falling into his eyes. “How much longer are you staying? I mean... when do you have to move?”

“I...” Kimishita’s voice trailed off. He remembered the doctors’ voices, his father’s call. _A few more weeks,_ they’d said. _Then he can leave the hospital again if all goes well._  “Soon,” he admitted quietly. “Very soon.”

The grip on his wrist tightened. “How soon?”

“...I probably won’t come back after summer break.”

Kiichi raised his head. His eyes widened, bright and pale with shock. “That’s way too soon!” he exclaimed. “Summer break’s almost here!”

“You don’t say!” Kimishita snapped, feeling anger rise inside of him, pushing back the sadness for a moment. “Are you done stating the obvious?”

Kiichi looked stunned for a second, taken aback. Then stubbornness flickered in his eyes. “You should tell the others,” he insisted, and it wasn’t a request; it was a demand. “You’re not planning to just disappear on them, right?”

“I...” _Guilty as charged._  “I know, idiot!” he lied, feeling caught and exposed. “I’ll tell them when the time is right! It’s still too early right now!”

“You can’t wait forever! If you sneak out on us, I’m sure as hell not telling the team!”

Kimishita stopped short. There was something in Kiichi’s voice that made him pause and think, something that didn’t sound like his usual self. This wasn’t only anger and spite. There was something else in it, something deeper, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what it was.

“What’s that?” _Please don’t mean what I think you mean._  “What are you talking about, you imbecile?”

“What am I talking about? Obvious!” Kiichi fixed his eyes, his gaze burning with determination and raw, hot emotion. “If you’re leaving Seiseki, then I’m coming with you!”

_No._

Kimishita closed his eyes, pulling his hand from Kiichi’s grasp. _No. Kiichi, no. Please don’t say something like this._

“Ah?” he growled, the hurricane of feelings in his heart hiding behind a mask of anger. “What the hell are you talking about, you moron?”

_Don’t say things like that. Don’t get my hopes up for something I can never allow. Don’t sacrifice your future for my sake._

“Do you even understand what you’re talking about, you self-centered moron? Don’t act like this is the easiest thing in the world! You can’t just follow me because you feel like it!”

_I’d never forgive myself if you did._

“Don’t you ever think about leaving with me again! I don’t _want_ you tagging along, got that? So shut your mouth, you big stupid baby!”

Kimishita swallowed hard. His voice was starting to crack. Tears were burning at the corners of his eyes for the second time today, and this time he wouldn’t show Kiichi. This time he wouldn’t cry, not even by himself.

Kiichi looked at him, wide-eyed and surprised. There was disappointment in his eyes, shock, anger, the all-too-familiar pain. Kimishita turned away. He couldn’t bear to see this look on his face, couldn’t bear knowing that he was the one who had caused it. Again.

“Kimi–”

“Leave it, Kiichi.” His voice was cracking and crumbling, breaking away. “Please just... forget about it...”

Kiichi didn’t say another word, and Kimishita rushed away, away to the safety of his room before he could start crying again. What he didn’t see was the look of understanding and iron determination that spread over his vice-captain’s face.

\---

Kimishita changed his clothes, cleaned up his room and tried to study a little, but nothing could take his mind off everything that had happened today. He paced his room and stared through the window, but he felt like he saw nothing. Finally his stomach growled, and he made off to the kitchen to prepare a long overdue dinner.

It was ready too soon, and Kiichi still hadn’t turned up. Looked like he was holed up in his room again, sulking or playing games or maybe sleeping. Kimishita sighed. He didn’t feel like talking to him right now, but it seemed like he had no choice but to call him over to eat.

“Hey, Kiichi,” he called softly, knocking on the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

No answer.

Kimishita slowly opened the door, peering inside.

The room was empty.


	17. SOS

Ooshiba hurried down the street with a sense of purpose, everything in him fixed on his current destination.

He didn’t understand why exactly Kimishita had yelled at him when he’d told him he wanted to leave with him, but one thing he knew for sure. Kimishita hadn’t told him off because he hated him. He had seen the look in his eyes, heard the crack in his voice, everything telling him that he, too, wished they could stay together but knew it wasn’t possible. Kimishita had leaned on him all the way home from the match. He had hugged him back and cried on his shoulder. If his captain had pushed him away just now, it wasn’t because he didn’t like him.

That much was clear as day. And so was another thing.

He had to do something. No matter what, no matter how, he had to help Kimishita. He couldn’t just stand by and watch him pretend to be fine while secretly saying his goodbyes to the team and disappearing on them.

So he had paced his room, thinking. He had stared out through the window, going through every possible solution in his head, turning it backwards and forwards and wondering if it would work. He had considered asking his parents; he had wondered if it was possible for the hospital to pay for Kimishita’s father’s surgery, but even he could see that probably wouldn’t work. Kimishita’s father had told him the surgery was extremely expensive, and his parents barely knew him, if they did at all; even he couldn’t ask them to put such a big hole in the hospital’s budget for the sake of a stranger, even if that stranger was the father of their son’s friend, to say nothing of Kimishita’s reaction at the offer. If he tried this, he should try this as his last resort, the backup plan he could use if everything else failed.

Was there no other way? There had to be one! Something easier, something that would work...

He had walked back and forth between the window and the door, replaying every conversation he’d had with Kimishita in his head. Something... some other way...

And then it hit him. There might be someone who could help. Someone who was closer to Kimishita and his father than his parents were... someone who knew them better.

It wasn’t guaranteed to work, but it was better than nothing. It was worth a try.

Kimishita was so going to kill him if he found out though, wasn’t he?

So he’d decided not to tell him. He had decided to sneak out and climb through the window, scrambling down the wall and escaping into the street before Kimishita could stop him. It wasn’t like he’d be gone long. Just a little thing he had to take care of.

He picked up his pace and headed in the direction of the hospital.

\---

Ooshiba was out of breath when he climbed the last stairs, sweating despite the cool evening air, and yet he didn’t slow down, didn’t stop until he reached the room where Kimishita’s father lay, coming to a halt in front of the door.

For a brief moment something like hesitation stirred within him. Then he stepped forward and knocked.

“Come in!” a familiar voice replied, warm and welcoming. Ooshiba opened the door. As he stepped inside his eyes met with Kimishita’s father’s, the man looking years older since the last time he’d seen him, his face paler than before, wrinkles lining his face that hadn’t been there the last time. Brown eyes fixed him with friendly interest, curious but not surprised.

“Is the match over? I had no idea it was that late already.” He gave a good-natured laugh. “How’d it go?”

Ooshiba fidgeted, unsure how much he should tell him. “We won.”

“Going to the Inter-High, are you? Congrats, kids! Shame I wasn’t there, I’d have loved to see that!” Kimishita’s father beamed with pride, smiling so brightly Ooshiba regretted coming here, regretted to make him so happy when he was burdened with bad news. He wasn’t telling him about the injury, he decided. This man should just be happy for now, without having that happiness spoiled by worry.

His smile faded, and Kimishita’s father turned serious once more, fixing Ooshiba with an inquiring gaze. “But that’s not why you came here without Atsushi, is it? What’s the matter?”

“His mother.”

The words were out before Ooshiba could stop them. “He said you know where she is... is that true?”

“Atsushi’s mother?”

Kimishita’s father looked at him, wide-eyed with surprise. Ooshiba squirmed under his gaze. Was he suspecting something? He knew something was up now, did he? “I...”

“It’s all right, I won’t ask questions.” Kimishita’s father smiled, and Ooshiba relaxed a little. “You seem pretty serious, don’t you? Alright, hold on. Would you mind giving me that notepad and pencil on the nightstand over there? Someone apparently forgot which arm I broke.”

Ooshiba grabbed both and shoved them towards him so hastily he almost knocked something over.

“If you want to talk to her about something, it’s probably better if I give you her work address,” Kimishita’s father remarked while writing. “I hope it hasn’t changed since the last time I heard of her. She’s a manager there though, so she might be a bit busy.” He held out the note towards Ooshiba. “Her name is Hayami Hanae.”

“Hayami Hanae,” Ooshiba repeated, taking the note and skimming over it. He had a vague idea where that place was... and he could reach it right now.

Spinning around, he stormed towards the door, impatiently yanking it open. “Thank you!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

He had a new destination. And a name.

And no time to lose.

\---

Kimishita stepped further into the room, eyes darting from side to side. “Kii...chi...?”

Nobody responded. There was just silence, closing in around him, unmoving yet strangely alive.

“Kiichi?” he called again, even if he knew it was futile. There was no one in here. The room was dark and cold, as if nobody had set foot into it in a week. The only signs of life were the backpack and messy futon on the floor and the slightly open window.

Was Kiichi not here? Then where was he?

Kimishita turned around and stumbled out of the room, a vague feeling of dread clutching at his heart. Why was he panicking? Kiichi might just have gone to the bathroom. Yes, that was probably it. No need to–

The bathroom door stood open, and the room behind it was empty.

Kimishita sprinted through the apartment, ignoring the pain in his ankle, slamming open every door. “Kiichi?” he called, the cold fingers of dread gripping tighter, materializing into a whole hand. “Kiichi, answer me!”

Nothing. No response. Only silence.

Panic rose in his chest, cutting the air from his lungs. Where was Kiichi? Why hadn’t he said anything? What was happening?

He yanked open the apartment door, stumbling outside. Was Kiichi in the store? In the laundry room downstairs? But why should he be? And if he wasn’t there after all...

_Relax, Atsushi. Think._ He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. _Think about it rationally. It’s not like you to lose your head._

Kiichi had probably just gone out for a while. He should look for him downstairs, and if he wasn’t there, try to call him and have it all cleared up in a minute. It wasn’t like Kiichi had ever left the house without him before.

But usually he’d tell him if he left. And this time he hadn’t.

What was this feeling? Why was he so afraid?

_Deep breaths._

He switched on the light, hurrying down the stairs, almost slipping, losing his balance and catching himself at the last second. “Kiichi!” he called, stumbling through the empty aisles. “Kiichi, this isn’t funny! Answer me, you idiot!”

But Kiichi didn’t answer no matter how many times he called, how many times he ran and stumbled through the entire house and searched every corner, calling his name over and over until he wasn’t sure if it was his own voice he heard or just an echo reverberating from the walls. He didn’t return suddenly, munching on a popsicle, proclaiming that he’d just paid a quick visit to the convenience store because he was hungry. There was nothing, no familiar voice telling him to shut up and stop running around with his injured ankle, no stupid face giving him a smug look while teasing him about how worried he’d been, no Kiichi to calm him down and tell him he had worried for nothing. There was only silence, silence that became more unbearable with every passing second.

Kimishita clenched his fists, shoving out the growing dread threatening to strangle him. _Think,_ he told himself. _If he’s not here, just call him and ask where he went. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this._

A strangely clammy feeling creeping over his hands, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Kiichi’s number with hasty fingers.

It rang once. Twice. A third time.

_Pick up, pick up!_

Four.

_Pick up already!_

Five.

_Pick up!_

“The number you have dialed is currently not available. Please try again at a later time or leave a message after the–”

Kimishita hung up.

He stared at the phone for a very long moment, trying to understand what had just happened. He had tried to call Kiichi. And Kiichi hadn’t picked up his phone.

Had he not noticed?

Had he ignored him on purpose?

He shook his head. Maybe Kiichi just hadn’t noticed, or got stuck somewhere with bad connection. He had to try again.

Grip tightening on his phone, he tapped the Call button a second time. There was a beep, and then the voice spoke up again. “The number you have dialed is–”

“Shut up,” Kimishita snapped, ending the call. The dread inside him was rising. What had happened? Had Kiichi turned his phone off? But why?

Had he turned it off because of Kimishita’s first call?

He pushed that train of thought out before it could leave the station. Why should Kiichi? There was no reason for him to–

Then what about his words earlier? Had he hurt Kiichi with them? Had they been the last straw, the reason why–

_Stop._ He shook his head. Whatever Kiichi was doing, it was clear he’d only left temporarily. His backpack had still been in his room, and so had the rest of his stuff. He’d come back... but when?

Should Kimishita just sit around here and wait for him to return, however long that would take?

He turned around and stumbled back up into the apartment, slipping on his shoes and jacket and stuffing his keys into his pocket. Like hell he would. Cursing himself and his idiot of a vice-captain, he unlocked the store door and hurried out into the night.

\---

Ooshiba looked at the address in his hands, then at the building in front of him, then back at the address. This had to be the place.

Looming in front of him was a tall, modern office building, one out of many in this part of the city. The name of a large company was written across it in shining letters, the very same name written down on the note Kimishita’s father had given him. Looking right and left, Ooshiba walked up to the door, pushed it open and stepped inside.

He was greeted by a brightly-lit entrance hall. Stairs were leading up in every direction, and he could make out at least three elevators, everything sparkling and brand-new. The offices were built around the hall as if it was a courtyard, only a glass roof separating it from the rainy city sky. Even at this late hour the place was bustling with people hurrying to and fro, stepping out of elevators, running up and down the stairs, standing together and talking.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

Ooshiba looked down. The stranger who had just bumped into him was a young man no older than his late twenties, in a slightly crumpled suit, his tie loose around his neck. Wide eyes were looking at him over the rim of frameless glasses, his expression surprised and embarrassed but not unfriendly.

“Excuse me,” Ooshiba said urgently, seizing his chance. “I’m looking for a Hayami Hanae, do you know where she is?”

The man looked at him, wide-eyed with surprise. “Hayami-senpai?”

Ooshiba took a step closer, everything in him jumping to attention, leaping at the chance to find the answer to his question. “You know her?”

“Y-Yes!” The man shrank back, intimidated. “I know her but she’s not here right now I’m very sorry she’s on a business trip to Aomori and not coming back till tomorrow evening but I can give her a message if you–”

Ooshiba cut him off, impatient, cursing his luck. “Where in Aomori?”

“Seaside Hotel I thin– ah, shoot!” The man paled, covering his mouth with his hand. “Don’t tell her I told you this! I should never have... Actually, forget it! It’s not like you’ll seek her out there or anything, right? Please tell me you won’t!” He flailed his hands around in the air, and Ooshiba couldn’t help feeling like this guy reminded him of someone. “What do you want from Hayami-senpai, anyway? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

Ooshiba fidgeted, not sure what to say. “Uh, family emergency... I guess.”

The stranger’s eyes widened with a mixture of curiosity and slight disbelief. “Family?” he repeated slowly. “I didn’t even know Hayami-senpai had–”

He was cut off by a very obnoxious ringtone. Blushing, he rummaged and searched through his pockets, pulling out a phone and holding it to his ear. “Hello?”

Ooshiba didn’t catch what the voice on the other side of the line was saying, but it sure didn’t sound happy. The stranger turned three different shades of red, fumbling and fidgeting as he stuttered apologies. “S-So sorry!” he stammered. “Yes! I’m sorry, I’ll be right there! Yes, I got delayed... Five more minutes! I’ll be there in five minutes! I’m so sorry!”

And with that he was gone, and Ooshiba was left alone in the entrance hall.

_Seaside Hotel in Aomori, huh._

He could wait until tomorrow and then drop by again here after school. But then he’d have to return to Kimishita right now, without having done anything and without an excuse where he’d gone unannounced or why he was back so late. He couldn’t just lie about wanting a snack from the convenience store now. He had to think of some other excuse, because if Kimishita found out the truth he’d lock him away until he had to move.

Or he could go now. It was a crazy idea, and he didn’t know anything about this woman except the name of the hotel she was staying in, which could be anywhere in a big city he didn’t know. Maybe she really hated her family. Maybe she wouldn’t even hear him out when he mentioned Kimishita and his father, and the trip would be in vain. Why should someone suddenly care about their family if they hadn’t for sixteen years?

But Ooshiba had this gut feeling that she would. Something in him told him she’d care, that somehow she’d be able to help.

Should he try his luck?

He didn’t even have to think about it. As his legs carried him towards the next train station, they already knew the answer.

\---

Ooshiba stood at the ticket machine, reaching into his pockets for his wallet. He’d left his card at home, but if he remembered correctly he should still have enough cash for a ticket and a snack, right? If he hadn’t miscounted...

He looked through it. Counted. Counted again. Damn it.

He barely had enough money for a one-way ticket.

For a split second he hesitated, wondering if he should at least try to sneak back home to get his card, but he shook it off. Kimishita would definitely catch him, and then his plan would be done for. He had to go now, or who knew when his next chance would be. He could think about a way back home once he got there.

So he swallowed, threw his last cash down the throat of the ticket machine, and hurried towards the platform to wait for his train. _Please work out,_ he begged silently. _Work out, plan!_

Before he had time to overthink everything his train arrived, and he got on, finding a free seat and sitting down at the window, staring out into the darkness. He wondered how long it would take him to find the hotel. Probably till morning. He’d be gone all night and possibly longer, and–

Oh crap!

–and he should probably text Kimishita and tell him not to worry, because that idiot was probably thinking something had happened to him by now. He’d be surprised if Kimishita hadn’t at least called him a couple times.

He took out his phone and turned it on. The battery was at 1%.

How? Why? He could have sworn he had charged it today! Had he forgotten? He couldn’t have! Damn, why today? Why now of all times?

Cursing under his breath, he opened his messages and started typing a new one. _dw im ok jst stayin @ my place 2nite. be back tmr tho_

Just when he was about to hit Send, his phone lit up with an incoming call. Kimishita.

Should he answer? Should he decline?

Before he could decide, the screen of his phone went black.

Ooshiba cursed. He shook his phone, tapped it, pressed all the buttons. Nothing. The battery was dead.

“Fuck!” he burst out, furiously pressing and tapping away at his phone, in vain. “Don’t die on me now! Just let me send one more text! One text, asshole!”

Nothing happened. The screen stayed black and unforgiving, and Ooshiba was stuck on an overnight train to a different prefecture, unannounced, with no way to contact Kimishita and tell him he was okay. And now that Kimishita had tried to call him and the battery had cut them off, this idiot would definitely assume the worst, think that Ooshiba had cut him off on purpose, that he was mad at him or in trouble or both and start worrying too much again.

Should he go back? He could still do it. Get off at the next station and go home, try again tomorrow or sometime, tell Kimishita some lie about where he’d been and face his anger at disappearing on him but also his awkward relief at seeing him back in one piece. His time would be wasted, and his money would be wasted, but at least Kimishita wouldn’t have to worry.

But what should he tell him? No matter what he said, Kimishita would get suspicious. He wouldn’t get another chance to seek out his mother without him noticing, not soon enough. It was now or never.

Clenching his fists, he leaned his head against the window, watching the dark landscape pass by on the outside. Since he was here already, he should probably try to sleep a little. He was tired, he was starving, and guilt and worry lay heavy on his shoulders, and he missed home already, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. If only this plan worked out. It might not. There was nothing to justify the thought that it would, except for his own stubborn gut feeling. He just hoped it was right.

_I’m sorry, Kimishita._ Ooshiba closed his eyes. _Heroes have to go on missions at the weirdest times. But I hope I’ll be back soon._

\---

Kimishita leaned back against a wall with a sigh. It was cold and wet, just like everything around him, but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to rest for a moment, and then he’d keep walking.

He was cold. He was tired. He was soaked by the rain, dripping wet down to the bone. His nose was running. His legs felt heavy, and his ankle hurt again, exhausted and overburdened by walking the streets for hours on end.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out here, walking and stumbling and dragging himself around the neighborhood, down dark streets he had never seen before, into a part of the city he didn’t know at all. It must have been hours. He didn’t know where he was, if he could find his way back home, if he’d even make it home at all without collapsing from pain and exhaustion. He’d lost track of how many times he had called Kiichi’s name. He’d lost track of how many times he had tried to call him on his phone, how many times he had tried to text him. None of the texts had arrived. The calls had redirected to voicemail. It had started raining, and the crowds on the street had disappeared into their houses, and still Kimishita had kept walking, walking on and calling Kiichi’s name until his legs were numb and his voice was hoarse.

He lifted his gaze, looking around. The street in front of him was large, unfamiliar, flooded by yellow lamps that were too bright in Kimishita’s tired eyes, casting reflections onto the wet concrete. The rain was still pouring down, water streaming down the road like a river. Not a soul was outside, not a car driving by. Of course not. It had to be way past midnight– no, later. Much later. He didn’t know how late. He didn’t want to.

Where should he go? He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know where Kiichi could have gone. He had looked everywhere, in their entire neighborhood, around school, at the soccer pitch he’d shown him. Nothing. He had even gone in the direction of Kiichi’s house, but he hadn’t rung the doorbell, afraid of his family’s reaction if they found out he had gone missing. All he’d seen was that Kiichi’s windows had been dark, his room empty. He wasn’t there. He was nowhere Kimishita had looked, and with every passing minute his worry grew.

Why had he turned off his phone? Why wasn’t he telling him where he was? Was he angry at him? But then why had he disappeared so quietly, without proclaiming it furiously like he always would? Why had he left? Where was he?

Had something happened to him? Had he been injured, caught up in an accident? What if he was sick or too exhausted to come home? What if he was somewhere out there, needing Kimishita’s help, and Kimishita couldn’t get to him?

He closed his eyes. _Stop it._ Kiichi wasn’t a kid anymore. He was tall enough to make creeps stay away, strong enough to take care of himself and stubborn enough to drag himself to a safe place even if he couldn’t. Kiichi would be fine, at least for some time. And even if he wasn’t, there were probably enough other people around to help him. He should worry more about himself right now.

Looking around any longer was pointless. He should go searching for Kiichi again in daylight tomorrow, if he hadn’t returned by then anyway. Maybe he was already back at home. One way or another he should go home, get some rest and sleep before his legs gave way underneath him and he caught pneumonia from the rain and the cold.

Sighing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. A tiny, weak part of him hoped to see a message from Kiichi, a missed call, but there was nothing. Kimishita shook his head at himself and opened the Maps app, waiting for his location to load and searching for a way back home. It wasn’t that far, at least. About half an hour. An eternity in his current state.

Maybe he should take the train... no, he couldn’t afford to waste money on that now. He didn’t have money with him, anyway.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he turned, slowly making his way down the deserted streets, his reflection in the wet concrete his only companion. The rain kept beating down on him, cold and merciless. The wind crept under his clothes. The ground was slippery. His feet were heavy. His ankle hurt.

Slowly, step by step, he made his tired way home, always glancing from side to side in the hopes of seeing Kiichi’s face around the next corner, in vain. At long last he turned into his street, and the last spark of hope lit up in his chest. Maybe Kiichi was here, waiting in front of the door and asking him where he’d been all night. Maybe he was asleep in his room, sprawled out on his futon and snoring, feet sticking out from underneath the blanket. Maybe Kimishita had worried too much, and everything was all right and Kiichi was home and safe, just like he should be.

But the entrance to his house was empty. Kiichi’s room was empty. The apartment was deserted and untouched. Kiichi wasn’t here.

Kimishita closed his eyes, biting down on the frustration and worry tightening in his gut. _Please be okay,_ he thought, clenching his fists. _Come back already, you idiot. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?_

Hanging his head, he trudged into the bathroom, changing out of his soaked clothes and drying his hair with a towel as best as he could. Then he returned to his room and slipped on his pajamas, sitting down on the bed with his phone in his hands. One last text to Kiichi. Then he was going to sleep.

The message blurred before his eyes as he typed, and if it was from the exhaustion or the cold or if he was just tearing up he couldn’t say. Then he hit Send, placed the phone down on the nightstand, pulled the blanket over his head and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	18. Hanae

Nobody had told him this city would be so big.

Ooshiba sat down on the curb, resting his head on his knees. He had been walking the streets for what felt like hours. Where was he? Was he anywhere near his destination? He couldn’t tell. Maybe he was getting closer, maybe he was walking away from it. Maybe he had spent the past two hours going around in circles. He didn’t know.

He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life. He was starving. And he was cold. It had been warm at home, but here it was freezing at night, a cold seaside wind pulling at his hair and clothes and creeping under his jacket that was way too thin for this place. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and he couldn’t eat until he got home, his empty wallet laughing at him in his pocket. And he wanted to sleep. His legs felt heavy. His eyelids were falling down as he walked, growing harder and harder to push back open, as if someone had attached invisible weights to them that were growing heavier by the second. He had barely slept on the train, he was tired from the match, and he was exhausted from walking. And yet he couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

Where was he? Was he going the right way? Damn it, his stupid phone. If it hadn’t died on him he could have looked up the address, looked up how to get there and found the place in no time. Now he was stuck with no directions and nobody to ask, wandering an unfamiliar neighborhood in an unfamiliar city in the wee hours of the morning. The streets were deserted. The only noise was a car driving by in the distance and the neverending howling of the wind.

He shouldn’t rest now. He should keep walking, or he would never find that hotel in time, and then his entire trip here would have been in vain. Get up, even though he was starving and tired, even though he could barely keep his eyes open, even though every bone in his body was screaming for him to rest. It was for the greater good, he reminded himself as he heaved himself back up, trudging on in a random direction, dragging his feet forward, little by little, step by step. His eyes were closing as he went, and his legs were threatening to gave way, but he stumbled on, step by step.

_For Kimishita._

He thought of his captain, his friend. The boy he loved. He thought of the look on his face when his father had called him, his retreating back as he was escorted off the pitch after twenty minutes, the tears in his eyes when he had melted into Ooshiba’s arms. He thought of Kimishita’s smile, his laugh, the intense look in his green eyes when they played soccer together, the time he had fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder. He thought of all the times Kimishita had helped him, comforted him or cheered him up in that awkward cranky way of his, all the times he had pulled him out of a slump, all the times he had supported him, again and again, over the course of five long years. He thought of the crack in his voice when he had told him not to speak about leaving with him, the look of pain in his eyes.

And he kept going.

Ooshiba walked on, despite his exhaustion, driven by nothing but stubborn determination. He was’t doing this for himself. He was doing this for someone who needed him. If he couldn’t go past his limits this once, what kind of hero would he be?

So he kept going. Following street signs and his intuition, he kept going. Seaside Hotel... that meant it had to be near the ocean. He had to find the ocean. Was it that way? This tourist sign... what did it read? He couldn’t read anymore. His eyes were too tired.

At long last the rushing of distant waves mixed into the wind’s incessant howl, and a moment later Ooshiba found himself at the shore of the ocean, gazing over a dark expanse of water stretching out before him, splashing against the concrete below his feet. In the distance a breath of silver lined the sky, the first greeting of the new morning. Almost there. Just a little more walking, a little more searching, and then he’d be there.

He could allow himself to take a break. Just a little, five minutes. He could sit down on this bench, gaze out on the sea and relax for a second, rest his legs. Then he’d keep going.

Ooshiba sat down, closing his eyes. The waves were splashing against the shore below, loud in the silence of the night yet peaceful, soothing. He relaxed a little. Almost there. He was already at the sea, now he just had to find that stupid hotel and hope things would work out.

But before that he’d rest. Only five minutes...

\---

Ooshiba blinked.

Bright rays of sunlight tickled his face, warm and unassuming. He groaned, trying to pull the blanket over his head and go back to sleep. Too early in the morning. What time was it, anyway? He reached out to look at his alarm clock...

...and touched nothing but air. There was no alarm clock and no nightstand. And no blanket either.

Where was he?

Little by little everything came flooding back to him. The finals. Kimishita’s injury. Their conversation. His search for Kimishita’s mother, the train ride here...

His mission.

Crap, what had happened? Had he fallen asleep? What time was it? The hotel... Was he too late? Had Kimishita’s mother already left?

He looked at the people around him, still looking sleepy, hurrying along the street with bags and coffee cups in their hands. The sun was still low on the horizon, as if it, too, wasn’t quite ready to get up yet. A quick glance at a nearby clock revealed that it was only about seven in the morning.

Ooshiba relaxed. Early enough, hopefully. But he had to hurry.

Scrambling to his feet, he looked right and left, wondering which way to go. Seaside Hotel... dammit, why was his phone dead? He could so easily have Googled it!

Okay, keep calm. In this kind of situation, what would Kimishita do?

_Probably not forget to charge my fucking phone in the first place, you moron,_ the image of Kimishita remarked in his head. He rolled his eyes, grumbling for the projection to shut up. The imaginary Kimishita clicked his tongue at him, then he sighed in defeat, pointing up and down the street.

_Look at the surroundings. You’re looking for a hotel. Probably a more fancy one, since she’s a manager on a business trip. Which direction looks more likely to have business hotels?_

Ooshiba looked in one direction, then in the other. One side led off in the direction of normal houses and some vaguely touristy buildings, with the sand of a distant beach shining at the far end. On the other side, however, the buildings were higher and more modern, and the people meeting Ooshiba from that direction were almost all clad in tailored suits and ties, hurrying off in every direction. He should try his luck there.

_That way._

He hurried in the direction of the buildings, taking in the names as he went. Not the one. Not the one either. Another wrong one. Damn it, how many hotels were here? And just how long was this godforsaken street–

He stopped short. His eyes read over a sign at an entryway. Read it over again. _Seaside Hotel._ Five stars.

_Found it._

Without hesitating for a second, he took a breath and stepped into the lobby, marching straight up to the reception desk.

The woman behind the desk looked up when he came to stand in front of her, her expression changing from surprised to mildly judgmental as her eyes roamed over him. Ooshiba felt offended, but he didn’t say anything. This was a fancy place, and he was a high-schooler with crumpled clothes and messy hair who had spent the night on a train and a seaside bench and probably looked the part. Besides, he needed her help. Better not ruin this with picking a fight.

“Excuse me,” he said, struggling to sound as polite as possible. “I’m looking for a Hayami Hanae, is she staying here?”

The woman continued to look at him with those judging eyes. “Hayami Hanae, you say?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean yes.” Ooshiba fidgeted nervously. “Hayami Hanae...-san.” _Crap, almost forgot the honorific again._

The woman looked at the computer screen in front of her, typing something into the keyboard. “Yes, she is still staying here today,” she said cautiously. “Would you like me to deliver a message to her?”

“That’s, uh...” He fumbled awkwardly. “If... it’s possible, I’d rather talk to her in person.”

“In person,” the woman repeated slowly, suspicion growing. “What’s your name? May I ask about your business with Hayami-san?”

“N-No!” Ooshiba blurted out and regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. “I-I mean,” he tried to cover up, “it’s, uh, a personal thing so...”

She sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, but in that case I can’t let you speak to her. You’ll have to wait until she comes here and talks to you or deliver a message.”

Wait for her? Deliver a message? “I can’t do that!” Ooshiba burst out, all his manners going out the window. “I don’t have time! It’s an emergency!”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, but I’m afraid I can’t help you! We have security and privacy guidelines, do you understand?” The woman underlined each word with annoyed gestures, visibly struggling not to snap at him. “Unless you tell me your name and business with her, I can’t tell you where she is or let you see her.”

“But I can’t do that!” Ooshiba insisted, growing more frantic with every second. “Please, can’t you let me see her? Just this one time! I promise I’m not up to anything bad!”

“As I said–”

“Excuse me.”

A rich, deep female voice cut into their argument, silencing them both on the spot. Ooshiba turned around to find a businesswoman standing in front of him, eyeing him with cool curiosity.

This face...

_Kimishita?_

Ooshiba held his breath to keep himself from blurting out the name. The woman in front of him was a carbon copy of Kimishita. She was still fairly young, no older than her late thirties but probably even younger. And she looked just like him, the same sharp, elegant features and high cheekbones, the same intense, thoughtful green eyes, the same dark hair curling slightly at the tips, the same slim, light, athletic build. She looked so much like him it hurt.

Ooshiba didn’t have to wait for her to speak to know what her next words would be.

“I’m Hayami Hanae. Can I help you?”

\---

Kimishita opened his eyes. For a moment the world around him looked blurry and hazy; then he blinked, and the blurry forms took shape. It was bright daylight outside, around noon or even later, but for once Kimishita didn’t leap out of bed, worrying that he had overslept. Instead he groaned and burrowed into the covers, closing his eyes again. He was still tired from yesterday, and there was that sore feeling in the back of his throat that would soon devolve into a cold. Fantastic.

Giving an unwilling groan, he extended his arm and reached for his phone, turning it on. It was three in the afternoon already. Kimishita sighed. He had slept right through the school day, and it was all that idiot Kiichi’s fault.

He snapped awake. Kiichi. Had he come back? Had he called or texted? Please, please–

But there was nothing, no calls or messages from Kiichi. There was just a single missed call from an unknown number, sometime late in the morning. Kimishita wondered if he should call back. Then he left it. Probably just someone who had the wrong number.

He listened for any voices or footsteps, any signs of life, but the apartment remained silent. Slowly, reluctantly, Kimishita peeled off the blanket and scrambled out of bed, shuffling out of his room to look through the apartment, searching for Kiichi without much hope to find him. He didn’t. The apartment remained empty, lonely and quiet.

_Idiot. Where are you?_

Maybe he should drop by Kiichi’s house after all. What if he really was home, and he had worried for nothing? _Please be there. Please be okay and safe._

But what if he wasn’t? His parents probably didn’t know of his disappearance. If he wasn’t there, and they found out Kiichi had been with him and he had let him disappear and nobody knew where he was and something might have happened to him–

Kimishita sighed, flopping back down on the bed. This was pointless. His thoughts were going around in circles, and he still didn’t know what to do.

He picked up his phone again, idly spinning it in his hands. _Maybe I should call Kiichi again,_ he considered, _or text him._  He opened the message thread. His texts from yesterday still hadn’t been delivered.

Was his phone still turned off? What was with this guy? Did he not want Kimishita to contact him that badly?

Before that train of thought could leave the station, a notification from the team group chat flashed over his screen. It was Kazama. _Hey hes online! that u or ur ghost cap?_

Kimishita tapped the message, opening the chat. He had missed a long discussion, but just from skimming he could see that the others had asked about him over and over, increasingly worried that he wasn’t replying.

A slight smile made his way onto his face. These guys were good people. They were his friends, after all.

_I’m not online, I’m dead,_ he messaged back. _This is my ghost texting you._

A series of messages popped up in quick succession. Kazama replied with a simple _LMAO_. Kurusu and Nitobe each started to write a sentence, chopping them up into one-word messages until Kimishita gave up on trying to follow them. Tsukamoto typed for a long time until finally his message appeared on the screen too.

_I’m so glad you’re okay, Kimishita-senpai! Where have you been all day? We thought you might be sick but you didn’t even respond to our messages, are you all right? What happened to you?_

Another message that quickly followed the first one. _If you want to tell us, of course! It’s completely okay if you don’t!_

Kimishita paused. What should he tell them? That Kiichi was staying with him and had suddenly disappeared into thin air yesterday, and that he had been out all night looking for him? No, thank you. Kazama was already teasing him enough as things were.

_Stayed up too late last night and overslept,_ he wrote instead. _Overwork probably messed up my sleeping pattern._ Not really a lie.

Ubukata’s reaction was the first and also the shortest. _Smh._

Satou was the next to reply. _Dude rly? Give yrself a break, we still need u_

_Exactly,_ Suzuki added. _What are we sposed to do w/ a sick captain?_

Tsukamoto’s response took the longest, as usual. _Please take care of yourself, Kimishita-senpai! We understand you want to try your hardest and do your best at everything but please don’t forget to rest! Get well soon!_

Kimishita sighed, embarrassed at their worried tone. _Its not that bad._

He hesitated for a second, then he typed in another message, sending it before he could change his mind again. _On that note, anyone heard from Kiichi?_

_He wasnt here today either,_ Kurusu replied. _idk why tho._

Kazama, of course, was the next one to respond, and Kimishita already dreaded his reply as soon as he saw him typing. _Oh? Why are u so curious abt Kiichiman, Kimishita-kun? ;)_

_Actually_

_How do u even know he wasnt here today? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

Kimishita clicked his tongue, a flush spreading over his cheeks. _What’s that face for?_ he replied. _I just haven’t heard from him since yesterday and was wondering if you had._

His grip tightened on the phone. He stared at the screen, silently praying that someone had.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Suzuki’s reply finally flashed up on the screen. _He called in sick today. Idk what he has though._

Called in sick. So someone knew where he was. He was safe. Sick, but safe and sound.

Kimishita relaxed, but only for a moment.

Was Kiichi really sick? Or had he just told the school that? Was he really somewhere else, avoiding Kimishita at school and at home?

_Don’t think about it._

Rolling over on his side, he pulled the blanket back over himself, typing in another message. _Thank you._

\---

Ooshiba stared at her. And suddenly all the words he had prepared in his head, laid out for this very moment, were gone. His mind was empty.

“Hayami... Hanae-san?”

“Yes,” she replied somewhat bluntly, still eyeing Ooshiba with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “That’s my name.”

“Ah, uh...” Dammit, she was throwing him off. What was he supposed to say? If she was anything like Kimishita she’d snap at him if he was rude and then... “Can we– I mean, do you have a moment? I mean, can we talk?”

“Now?” She threw a skeptical glance at the designer clock hanging on the wall, frowning. “Alright, I can spare a minute. Just keep it short, I have a meeting to attend.”

Ooshiba nodded and said nothing. She stared at him expectantly for a few seconds, then she sighed, her expression shifting to understanding. “Let’s talk outside.”

Ooshiba nodded again, almost stumbling over his own feet as he followed her out of the lobby, coming to a halt outside the door. She stood a few steps in front of him, green eyes that were so much like Kimishita’s fixing him with curiosity. “So?”

“Your son!”

The words were out before Ooshiba could stop them. He’d had enough of beating around the bush. He wanted to know if he had a chance with this mission, once and for all.

But the moment he said them out loud, he knew he had made a mistake.

Hayami-san paled. Her eyes flickered with surprise, widened with fear, and for a split second she looked almost vulnerable. Then her expression froze over. “What are you talking about?” she said sharply, her words cutting the air like a knife. “I don’t have a son. Who told you that?”

Ooshiba swallowed. So this was her reaction when someone brought up Kimishita? Getting mad and pretending she didn’t have any children? He knew she was lying. Did she really hate her family that much?

Had Kimishita been right? Had it been stupid to go looking for her?

“Is this all you had to say? Something about a son I don’t have?” She narrowed her eyes, glaring. “You’re wasting my time here. If you only came here to prank me, I’m leaving. You’ve got the wrong person.”

She turned away and walked down the steps leading up to the hotel door.

Ooshiba stared after her, flabbergasted. Was this really it? Was this all he could do? Stare after her as he watched her leave?

_No._

“Kimishita Atsushi.”

She froze.

Slowly, inch by inch, she turned around. Her face was drained of all color. Her eyes were wide, a million emotions playing in them at the same time.

“You...” Her voice came out raspy. She swallowed, cleared her throat and started again. “You know him?”

Ooshiba nodded.

Stumbling, she hurried back up the steps, grabbing Ooshiba’s shoulders with frantic desperation. “How is he?” she burst out. “Are you his friend? What is he doing? Why are you here–” She cut herself off, taking her phone out of her purse to type a quick message, dropping it back into the bag as soon as it had sent. “Hold on, let’s talk somewhere in peace. What’s your name?”

“Ooshiba Kiichi. I’m Kimishita’s...” What was he? His teammate? Friend? Temporary roommate? “I’m his vice-captain on the soccer team. And his friend.”

“Soccer, huh.” A look of nostalgia crossed her face. It faded as quickly as it came, and she hurried back into the lobby, motioning for Ooshiba to follow her. “The hotel has a café,” she explained as she led the way. “We can sit and talk there in peace.”

Ooshiba followed her through the lobby and into a large, comfortable room with elegant designer furniture and soft-looking chairs and a counter at the far end, with a huge coffee dispenser and snacks on display that made his stomach growl. A handful of people sat in different corners of the room, slurping their coffee or tea and reading the news on their phones or typing away on their laptops. Hayami-san directed him to a table near the window, far away from the other guests, sitting down across from him in a hurry.

“Alright,” she said, visibly struggling to remain patient. “Now what’s the matter with Atsushi, and why are you here? Tell me everything.”

So Ooshiba did. He told her about Kimishita’s father, the accident, the diagnosis. He told her about the team, about Kimishita, about his wish to stay at Seiseki and help his father and his plan and the injury and how he’d have to move away after summer break started. He told her about his search for her, his secret hope that maybe she’d be able to help after all.

She listened in silence, but the look in her eyes grew ever darker. Ooshiba knew that expression too well. Guilt. She was blaming herself for all this, blaming herself for this whole situation Kimishita and his father were stuck in.

Why was she blaming herself? And why had she stayed away from them even though she seemed to care so much about her family?

At long last Ooshiba finished his explanation, and she stared at her hands for a few more seconds, as if the answer to all her questions and problems lay buried in the details of her manicured nails. Then she looked up, her eyes ridden with horror and regret. “So it’s that bad, huh.”

Ooshiba nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. Yes, it was bad. Really bad.

“And you,” she continued, surprise and worry clouding over the regret, “you’re telling me you came all the way from Tokyo just to talk to me about all this? All by yourself?”

Ooshiba shifted uncomfortably. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“Not... really.”

She sighed. “Have you had any real sleep or food since you ran off yesterday?”

“Uh...”

“Jesus Christ.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Ooshiba Kiichi, are you actually stupid? I appreciate you doing all that for Atsushi, but that was just reckless! Your parents must be worried sick! And you’re going to get sick too if you don’t eat and rest soon! We need to get you back home as soon as possible, got that?” She sighed, taking out her phone again and holding it to her ear. “Hold on. Hello, Matsunaga?”

Ooshiba ran a hand through his hair, shame catching heavy in his throat as he watched her. Yes, his parents must be worried sick. But Kimishita... Kimishita had to be losing his mind. That guy was probably worried out of his brains, blaming himself and thinking he was mad at him and had hung up on him on purpose and...

Hayami-san frowned at the voice on the other end of the line, then she spoke again. “Just one thing. Cancel all meetings today, I’m not going. And I need two tickets for the soonest flight back to Tokyo. I’ll explain everything later.” A pause. “I said I’ll explain later, something came up! Are you paid to do your job or to ask questions? – What? What boy from yesterday? Start making sense, Matsunaga– what do you mean, never mind?” She clicked her tongue. “Cut the apologies, stupid! Invest in a brain-to-mouth filter instead! And remember, cancel everything, two tickets for the soonest– yes, exactly. Bye.”

She hung up, stuffing her phone back into her purse. “Remind me to apologize to Matsunaga later. He’s a good kid, but he’s also an idiot so I always end up yelling at him.”

The lump in Ooshiba’s throat tightened. She sounded exactly like Kimishita. She spoke like him, moved like him, acted like him. Why had she abandoned her son when they were so much alike? What had happened back when she had left?

And what was Kimishita doing right now? Was he doing okay? If only he could–

He paused. An idea popped into his head.

“Kimi– I mean... Hayami-san.” She looked up. “Can I borrow your phone for a minute?”

\---

Ooshiba leaned his head against the car window, closing his eyes.

He couldn’t believe he was almost home again already. Just a few hours ago he had been sitting at the hotel with Hayami-san, and now he was sitting in a cab she had stuck him into, headed for his own house. The flight had passed in a heartbeat. Hayami-san had treated him to some food and a drink and kept asking him questions about Kimishita, about his life, his hobbies, his friends, the soccer team. Halfway through his head had started hurting, and by the time the plane had landed he had been so drowsy Hayami-san had dragged him into a cab, instructing the driver to take him home. Ooshiba vaguely remembered protesting. He didn’t want to go home. He had to go to Kimishita’s house and tell him he was all right, that he could stop worrying. That idiot hadn’t answered his call from Hayami-san’s phone. Of course not. He must have been at school at the time.

All the more reason to see him now! He had to talk to him, had to–

“Forget it,” Hayami-san had cut him off at the airport. “Look at you, you can barely stand. Do you really want to collapse on him and give him the trouble of looking after you?”

He had said no more then. He had simply scrambled into the car, trying not to fall asleep in the backseat. Tired. So tired. But he couldn’t sleep yet. He had to plug his phone in and call Kimishita, or at least text him. Something. Anything.

So tired. And dizzy. And cold.

_Must... not... sleep..._

The car stopped, and the driver turned around in his seat. “Here we are.”

Almost there. Now he just had to get to his room and...

His legs almost gave way as he tried to stand up. The world swayed dangerously. Dammit, the exhaustion was getting to him. Or was it a fever?

Staggering, he stumbled to the doorstep, searching his pockets for his keys. Those... no, those were the keys to Kimishita’s apartment. The other ones... where had he put them?

Had he forgotten them? Keys... where were the keys?

_So tired..._

He leaned against the doorframe, ringing the bell.

_So... tired..._

The door opened. His mother greeted him with a surprised look on her face. “Kiichi? What are you doing here– Kiichi, what happened to you?”

_Must... charge... phone..._

Ooshiba stumbled forward and collapsed into his mother’s arms.

\---

The hospital was quiet today. The only noise around was the chirping of birds and crickets outside, the constant rush of the road, and the occasional footsteps hurrying through the hallway. It was one of those lazy, warm early summer afternoons where the entire world seemed to be dozing off in the sun.

Kimishita Seijuurou didn’t open his eyes when the slowly setting sun moved away from his face, wandering along the wall. He didn’t open his eyes when the sound of a door being hurriedly opened reached his ears. He didn’t open his eyes at the clicking of high heels on tile floor hurrying down the hallway and approaching his room at lightning speed.

Then the door slammed open, and he blinked.

Standing in the doorframe, breathless and enraged, was a figure he would never have expected to see. A figure he knew so well that, even after all these years, he could have recognized her among a million.

“Sei, you idiot!” she burst out, still breathing hard, slamming the door behind her as she stormed into the room. “Would you please explain to me why it took your son’s friend traveling across the whole damn country to tell me of your situation, you first-degree moron?”

Seijuurou looked at her, torn between laughing and crying. Was this real? Was the woman he had heard nothing from in over a decade really standing in front of his bed, yelling at him for not telling her about his injury? He must be dreaming, the realist in him said. When he woke up he should tell the doctors to lower his dose of painkillers.

But Seijuurou wasn’t a realist. He was a dreamer. And the dreamer in him knew she was real, he just felt it. “Hanae...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeated again, her green eyes desperate, accusing. “I would have helped you! You wouldn’t have had to go through all this alone–”

“Hanae.” He raised his uninjured hand, trying to soothe her. “Calm down. I didn’t want you to worry, you know?”

“Idiot! After I even told you to tell me about any emergencies–”

Seijuurou laughed good-naturedly, struggling to mask the sadness welling up in him. “I know you’re a busy woman now. Wouldn’t have wanted to be a burden, would I?”

“...Idiot.” Hanae clenched her fists. “If you weren’t already in a cast, I’d punch you.”

He laughed again, more quietly this time. “If it makes you feel better, feel free to punch me. Not much left to break here.”

Hanae clicked her tongue at him. “Your jokes still aren’t funny. Take this more seriously, will you?” She sighed, looking down at her shoes, those polished designer shoes that looked so out of place in this small hospital room. “Don’t pretend to be fine,” she said at last, still not glancing up. “I know the whole story. Atsushi’s friend told me.”

“Atsushi’s friend?” Images flashed up in Seijuurou’s mind, snippets of last night’s conversation. “Let me guess, that Ooshiba kid?”

“Yeah.” Hanae sat down, staring at her fingers, fiddling with the hem of her blazer. “Traveled all the way to Aomori by himself just to find me and tell me everything.” A bitter smile crossed her face. “Reminds me of somebody else I know.”

“Who?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just some idiot who climbed out the window and hitchhiked across two prefectures to cheer on the girl he liked at track nationals after his parents grounded him and wouldn’t let him go.”

Seijuurou gave a quiet laugh, memories of his misadventure replaying in his head. “Come on, that was one time.”

“You’re lucky you made it there safe! Did you even think about the risks? You could have–”

“But I didn’t. That’s what matters.”

Hanae sighed. “You haven’t changed at all.”

There was a long silence. Neither of them looked at the other. Both of them were lost in their own thoughts, words lying heavy on their tongues, too heavy to be spoken yet eager to be said.

At long last Seijuurou glanced up, letting his eyes rest on Hanae, the face that was so familiar to him and the person he knew no longer. “Why did you come here?” he asked softly. “Just to yell at me for not telling you myself?”

“I...” She lowered her head, dark hair falling into her face in a motion Seijuurou could have drawn from his memory. “I’m here to apologize... for leaving you alone for so long. I’m sure you both needed my help a thousand times and I never did anything, so...” She swallowed. “If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, at least a little...”

“It’s okay, Hanae.”

She looked up, her eyes soft and vulnerable and fragile like glass marbles. Seijuurou smiled gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Nobody’s blaming you for what happened back then.”

“I am!” she snapped, sitting upright with gleaming eyes. Her sudden outburst only lasted for a moment, then she sunk back in, looking down at the floor. “I blame myself, Sei,” she said softly, so softly he barely caught the words. “I have so many regrets. I don’t want to regret not helping you again now. You know me. You know I will.”

“The accident has nothing to do with you leaving.”

“Everything else has.” She took a deep breath, stood up and bowed. “Please, Sei! I’ll do anything I can to help you both, so please let me! After all, you...” Her voice cracked a little. “You’re still my family.”

_Family._ The word felt strange, out of place. It felt like a relic from a time long past, back when the world had been alright and life had been easier and the three of them had still been together, firmly believing they could stay that way forever. But then things had come crashing down, and the word had shattered with their dreams of a shared future.

No. Not entirely. Seijuurou had never given up on it. Secretly a small hidden part of him had never stopped believing she’d come back someday, and they could grow old together, just like they had always wanted. And now she was back. She was older, and he was older, and they had both changed, but she was back.

“Okay then,” he said slowly. “I won’t ask you for anything, but I’ll let you help me if Atsushi asks you to. You just have to talk to him first, all right?”

“I will,” she said quickly. Then she hesitated, insecurity glimmering in her eyes. “He... He doesn’t hate me, does he?”

“I highly doubt it! Atsushi’s not that kind of guy.” He laughed again. “And even if he does, I’m sure he’ll forgive you after you’ve explained yourself.”

“I...” Hanae didn’t look too convinced, but she nodded. “Alright, I’ll talk to him. You better be right about him, got that?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The room fell silent once more. Seijuurou lowered his gaze. Hanae stepped over to the window, gazing outside. Neither of them knew what to say.

Finally they both spoke up at the same time. “I...”

She turned around. Seijuurou smiled, motioning for her to continue. “You go first.”

“I...” Hanae paused, her voice trailing off. Then she dropped her gaze. “I... I should probably leave,” she mumbled. “I have a meeting to attend, I’m going to be late, I...”

Without finishing her sentence she picked up her purse and hurried towards the door.

“Hanae.”

She stopped in the doorframe, turning around.

“It was good to see you again.”

She avoided his gaze. “You too.”

Seijuurou smiled gently. “You’re still beautiful.”

“And you’re still an idiot.” She turned away, facing the door once more. “I’ll... I’ll probably drop by again sometime. To tell you about Atsushi’s response. And– and we should catch up sometime... but now I...” Her voice cracked, crumbling away. “I really have to leave. Good night.”

Hayami Hanae stumbled through the door, shutting it behind her. Without looking back, she fled the hospital, and she didn't even care that the world saw her crying.


	19. Separating

Kimishita sat back up. _No use moping around here,_ he told himself. Kiichi had called in sick. There was a good chance he was home. And if he was home, he could visit him and talk to him.

Slipping out of his pajamas, he slid on a shirt and pants, stuffed his phone and keys into his pockets, and marched towards the door, slipping on his shoes. He had to know where Kiichi was. He had to know why he had disappeared on him, once and for all.

Without giving himself the time to hesitate, Kimishita hurried down the stairs and left the house. He wanted to know– no, he had to know. He needed clarity on everything that had happened since last night. Even if the truth was uncomfortable. Even if it hurt. He needed to know.

_Even if you’ll just find out you ruined your friendship? Even if you find out he hates you?_

Kimishita shook it off, clenching his fists. No. Kiichi wouldn’t hate him for this. He couldn’t. They’d had worse fights, and they were still friends. Were. Had been till now.

Kimishita hesitated. Had they really had worse fights? Could anything be worse than telling your closest friend you didn’t want him to leave with you, in a manner he was bound to misunderstand? How could that be anything other than betrayal? What if–

_Stop._

He needed to stop overthinking things. Maybe Kiichi was mad at him. Maybe he wasn’t. All he had to do was ring the doorbell and find out. And even if he was mad at him, it didn’t mean the end of their friendship. They had been friends and partners for half a decade and almost a third of their lives. It would take more than a stupid argument to bring an end to all that.

But then what was this feeling? What was with this sense of dread constricting in his chest, refusing to let him go?

He shook his head. Enough thinking. He was going to Kiichi’s house to know, once and for all. Once he knew the truth he could still think about what to do.

\---

Hanae braced herself, adjusted her collar and blazer, ran a nervous hand through her hair, and walked up to the door.

The door was locked. She peered through the glass, right and left, but the shop behind it was dark, no signs of movement or life inside. She frowned. Weird. Wasn’t the store still supposed to be open at this time of the day? And it was only Friday!

She walked around the building from one side, then from the other. Nothing. No sign of anyone being at home.

Returning back to the door, Hanae took a deep breath. She adjusted her clothes again, tucked back her hair, untucked it again, swallowed, and rang the doorbell.

Silence.

The world stood still. Hanae could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, much too loud in the surrounding silence. _Open the door,_ one part of her pleaded. _Please don’t open,_ the other begged. She didn’t know if she wanted Atsushi to answer or not. She wanted to. But she wasn’t ready. She was afraid, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run from it or get it over with.

She waited and waited, but there was no response. Not even a hint of movement. Everything stayed quiet.

She rang the doorbell a second time, then a third one. Nothing.

_Nobody home, huh._

Relieved and disappointed, Hanae turned back and walked home. She’d have to go looking for him again tomorrow. Maybe she’d find him at school. Hopefully.

\---

Kimishita pretended his hands weren’t shaking as he walked up to Kiichi’s house. He pretended his heart wasn’t racing, pretended his stomach wasn’t tingling with an army of nervous butterflies fluttering inside him, restless and merciless. He was calm. He wasn’t afraid of Kiichi’s response. He wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t...

He was afraid. Of course he was afraid. Who was he kidding?

But that was why he needed to get this over with. He needed to know everything, now. Any longer in this nervously trembling state and he’d die or lose his mind, whatever came first.

He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

_Please talk to me, Kiichi. Hear me out, I’m begging you._

Footsteps hurried over the floor inside, and a moment later the door opened. But it wasn’t Kiichi he was looking at. It was his sister.

Of course. When had Kiichi ever opened the door himself? He shouldn’t be surprised... so why was he so stupidly disappointed?

Kiichi’s sister looked at him with curious eyes, friendly and interested. But there was something else. Kimishita could have sworn that there was sympathy in her look, something akin to understanding... or was it pity? “Hello.”

“Good... good evening.” Did he sound nervous, or was it all his overactive imagination? “I’d like to talk to Kiichi... is he there?”

“Kiichi?” She gave him a slight frown. “Yes, he’s here...”

Kimishita released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“He’s home, but...” She hesitated, giving him an apologetic look, and Kimishita’s heart almost stopped. “You’ve got bad timing. He’s sick and can’t talk to anyone, sorry.”

Kimishita hung his head. _Of course not,_ he thought. _Of course he can’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, does he? Especially not me._

Why was he even surprised? He should have known the moment Kiichi had cut off his call. He should have known there was no point coming here, that Kiichi would never let him talk to him. After everything he’d done, it was understandable. He would have done the same.

But still...

But still, he had hoped there was still a chance. He had hoped Kiichi might hear him out, give him a chance to apologize and explain everything, that he hadn’t meant it the way he said it, that he hadn’t meant to hurt him, that he was just incredibly bad with expressing his feelings and couldn’t control his anger and always came off as harsher than he wanted. He had hoped Kiichi might understand that.

_So much for that, huh._

He glanced back up, hoping that his disappointment wouldn’t show on his face as he spoke. “In that case, sorry for disturbing you. Good night.”

“No problem,” Kiichi’s sister replied. “Sorry about that... Do you want me to notify you when he’s doing better so you can talk?”

Kimishita had to stop himself from giving a bitter laugh. “No need.”

“Really? Okay then... good night!”

“Good night.”

Kimishita turned around and was already halfway down the garden path when he paused, turning again. “Just one thing. Senpai, could you pass on a message to him? Tell him to get well soon. And...” He hesitated. The words felt too big in his throat, too heavy on his tongue to ever leave his mouth. “And... that I’m sorry... for everything that happened.”

Before she could say anything else he hurried back on the street, making his quiet way home.

\---

Kiichi’s room was still quiet and untouched, as if nothing had ever happened between them.

Kimishita hesitated in the doorframe, trying to step inside. Part of him didn’t want to touch Kiichi’s belongings. Part of him wanted to pretend everything was still okay between them, that they were still friends and he had never hurt Kiichi and Kiichi had never run off and cut off his calls and texts and pretended to be sick just because he didn’t want to see or hear him anymore, because he hated him.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t pretend anymore. He had ruined it, and Kiichi hated him now, and he needed to gather up his stuff and take it back to his house, just to save them both the awkwardness of Kiichi visiting again. There was no use lying to himself anymore.

Kimishita knelt down, picking up the clothes scattered all over the futon, crumpled up and tossed aside carelessly. They all needed to be washed and ironed. Why couldn’t this moron do that himself? Oh right... he’d tried once. It had ended in disaster.

No, not in disaster. It had ended in an explosion of soap and chaos and laughter, carefree happiness before it had all gone downhill. Before Kiichi had found out his secret and they had started fighting and hurting each other and–

 _Stop it._ He shouldn’t think about that. It was over. He had ruined it this time. He had ruined their friendship, once and for all.

Kimishita clenched his fists, Kiichi’s clothes crumpling in his hands. He’d been so stupid. He’d been so blind.

For all these years he’d had so many opportunities to realize it. Five years. Five long years. For five years Kiichi had always been there for him, supported him, understood him without words, yelled at him and insulted him and gotten angry when others did the same. For five years Kiichi had been his friend, his fiercely loyal partner who had stuck with him through heaven and hell. Kiichi cared about him so much. He always had. Why was he only seeing it now?

Kiichi had cared about him. He had done so many things for him, tried to help him, reached out for him, again and again. And all Kimishita had done was push him away. Every time... every single time he had snapped at him, yelled at him, walked out on him. He had acted like he didn’t care about him at all, like he hated him. Of course Kiichi wouldn’t let him get away with that forever. And their last conversation must have been the final straw.

Kimishita didn’t remember what exactly he’d said. He didn’t want to remember. He only remembered Kiichi’s silence, the way he hadn’t even bothered to talk back anymore. He must have given up. After five long years, Kiichi had finally given up on him.

He regretted it. He regretted everything.

He regretted every single time he had snapped at Kiichi, every single insult he had thrown his way. If only he could turn back time. If only he could go back to the first day of middle school and start it all again. He’d do it right this time. He wouldn’t push Kiichi away. He wouldn’t snap at him and hurt his feelings and make him hate him again, ever.

But he couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. He’d had his chance, and he had missed it. It was over.

Maybe it was for the best that he was moving away. Parting ways with Kiichi wouldn’t matter as much anymore. They already had.

They had... parted ways. After all these years they had parted ways. And this kind of parting wasn’t the one where you could stay in touch.

 _Damn it._ He wanted him back. He wanted Kiichi back, he needed him! He needed him in his life, he needed him and loved him and missed him so much. He loved Kiichi. He really did. There was no denying it anymore, no use lying to himself and pretending his heart didn’t already belong to this stupid, reckless, obnoxious, amazing idiot.

 _Just one more try,_ he thought bitterly, begging, pleading for whatever gods were out there to hear him. _Give me one more chance! Please, I promise I’ll never say a bad word to him ever again. Just... please give me Kiichi back._

But deep down, he knew it was futile. Even if they could hear him, why should they care? He’d had his chance, for five years. And he’d blown it. That was all it was. Kiichi was gone.

He had never expected the thought to hurt so much.

Clenching his teeth, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, ignoring the way his eyes fogged up. He picked up Kiichi’s clothes and folded them up, one after the other, the familiar mess slowly giving way to the old spartan look of the room. Kiichi really had a lot of stuff. His room was covered in clothes and schoolbooks and manga and tech gadgets, and his backpack had only been half unpacked.

Kimishita picked up Kiichi’s jersey from where it lay crumpled in the corner, still messy and dirty from yesterday’s match. He should fold that up and put it on the pile of clothes to wash too. Afterwards he’d still have to gather all the other unnecessary stuff spread out over the floor.

“Idiot,” he said into the silence of the room. “If you have so much stuff, why don’t you learn to get organized?”

His voice broke. His eyes went blurry. Drops of water fell down on Kiichi’s jersey, soaking into the fabric.

“Kiichi...”

The word came out like a sob. Kimishita gripped the jersey, making one last effort to stay strong, but it was in vain. His heart was breaking in his chest. Hot tears fell from his eyes, streaming down his face, drawing burning trails on his skin.

Kimishita fell down on his knees, sobbing. His hands still clutched Kiichi’s jersey, holding it close like a precious treasure as his whole body was shaken by regret and sorrow and loneliness.

“I’m so sorry, Kiichi... Please come back... I’m so sorry...”

\---

“How is he?”

Ooshiba Mikoto had jumped to her feet as soon as she saw her mother exit her little brother’s room. “Kiichi. How’s he doing?”

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “He’ll be fine,” she said tiredly, worry creasing her brow and drawing wrinkles on her otherwise youthful face. “It’s only a cold he caught somewhere, his fever’s already gone down. What worries me more is how exhausted he is.”

Mikoto frowned at her. “Exhausted?”

“Yes... well, I wouldn’t say exhausted. ‘Completely spent’ would be a more accurate way to put it.” Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning against the wall next to Mikoto. “Kiichi, Kiichi... what have you done this time?”

“I don’t know.” Mikoto looked down at her feet, then at her brother’s door. “We’ll have to wait till he wakes up.”

A notion crossed her mind. Maybe she didn’t know what in the world had happened to Kiichi, but maybe she knew someone who might. What had Kimishita-kun said when he asked for Kiichi earlier? That he was sorry?

Sorry for what, exactly?

She shook her head. No need to speculate. Unless Kiichi wouldn’t get better, there was no need to ask him about it. They didn’t know each other so well that he’d tell her about what might be very personal business, anyway.

But she wanted to know. She couldn’t help the feeling that this was something important.

 _Kiichi, you idiot. Recover already._ She sighed. _Just what in the world have you gotten yourself into...?_

\---

What was he doing here?

Kimishita didn’t know what had possessed him to go to practice today. It wasn’t like he could play with his ankle. The only thing he could do was sit on the sidelines and watch his teammates play, the teammates he’d never be able to play with again, unless a miracle happened. He should tell them about that sometime. But not now. Everyone was already fussy enough over his injury at the moment.

Well, not everyone. Kiichi still wasn’t there. He hadn’t been in class either. Of course not.

And yet Kimishita had gone to practice anyway, sitting on the bench and watching his companions kick ball after ball towards the goal, trying to score as Nakijin tried to stop them. He still had a lot to teach his teammates before he left. Kurusu still had to improve the accuracy of his passes if he was going to take his place, and he had to consider who the next vice-captain would be. Probably either Satou or Suzuki. And next year...

Who was he kidding. He was just here to keep his mind occupied. He had come here because it was better than being alone with his thoughts.

Kazama shot at the goal, the ball swooshing cleanly into the net, flying past a desperately jumping Nakijin before the poor kid even had the chance to touch it. Grinning, Kazama flashed a victory sign as he jogged to the side, and then it was Tsukamoto’s turn to shoot.

Tsukamoto clenched his fists and took aim, and Kimishita didn’t have to see his face to know he was wearing that stubborn, determined expression of his, his mouth pulled into a stubborn pout and his cheeks even pinker than usual, round eyes locking onto the goal. He took a few steps back, sprinted up to the ball and shot.

The ball flew up and hit Nakijin in the face, bouncing off his forehead and into the net. Tsukamoto started bowing and apologizing. Kazama burst out laughing, dragging off his boyfriend with an affectionate ruffle of his hair and a kiss on the forehead. They didn’t even seem to hear the shouts of “gross” and “Get a room!” the other second-years sent their way.

Kimishita sighed, closing his eyes. Everything here was so familiar, so familiar it hurt. All these people... over the course of two years they had grown so important to him, more important than he would ever have expected, so important that he wanted to laugh at himself for being a sap. But he loved them all, every single one of them. They were his team. He didn’t want any other for the world.

Damn it, he didn’t want to leave. Why did he have to leave? Wasn’t graduation coming up soon enough?

“Kimishita-senpai?”

Kimishita opened his eyes, startled. What was Tsukamoto doing next to him all of a sudden? Hadn’t he been out on the pitch just a second ago?

And yet here he was, standing only a few feet away, frowning at him with worried blue eyes. “Kimishita-senpai, um...” He fidgeted. “Are you okay?”

Kimishita glanced down at his taped-up ankle, then back at Tsukamoto. “Never been better,” he deadpanned. “As you can see.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Tsukamoto’s expression intensified, taking on an almost stubborn look. “It’s not about your ankle! Yesterday you weren’t at school and today you’ve been looking down all day, what happened?”

Kimishita blinked. There was something in Tsukamoto’s eyes that caught his attention, something he hadn’t noticed before. A courage that hadn’t been there before, a new kind of confidence.

_He’s growing up, huh._

Tsukamoto was no longer the scrawny kid from a year ago. He was taller now, Kurusu’s height and still growing; his eyes were less wide, his cheeks less chubby, and he was really starting to fill out his Seiseki jersey, physically and metaphorically. And he had matured, too. He cried less and smiled more these days, he was more confident and outgoing and the moral support of the team, now that Mizuki was gone more than ever. The first-years adored him. He’d make a good captain, he realized. After the current third-years graduated...

He scowled. _Don’t think about it._

Tsukamoto jumped at his scowl, the courage disappearing from his eyes as he flailed his hands around in the air, panicking. “I-I’m so sorry!” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean to ask anything that’s not my business! If you don’t want to talk about it that’s totally fine or maybe I was just imagining things but you didn’t seem happy so I thought–”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

Tsukamoto shut his mouth, blue eyes staring at Kimishita expectantly. Kimishita looked back at him. What did this kid want from him? Did he expect him to say something? Kimishita had no idea what to say.

Finally Tsukamoto seemed to understand, and there it was again, that sad look of worry on his face. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said gently. “But, um... the whole team’s really worried about you so... so if there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know!”

 _The whole team, huh?_ Kimishita almost snorted. The thought was ridiculous. But at the same time it tugged at his heartstrings, feeling both warm and sad at the same time. These guys were all so kind. So annoyingly, stupidly, heartwarmingly kind.

Part of him wanted to tell Tsukamoto. The poor kid was so determined to help him that he felt bad brushing it off and leaving him out of the loop. It would feel good to confide in someone now that Kiichi had cut him off. And Tsukamoto was kind and reliable; Kimishita was sure he’d know exactly what to say.

But Tsukamoto was so sensitive. He already looked worried enough. If he heard about everything that was troubling Kimishita at the moment, he’d get sick with worry. And out of all people, Kimishita didn’t ever want to see him that unhappy, least of all because of him. Maybe it was just that kid’s personality waking his protective instincts. Or maybe it was that Tsukamoto was so much like the younger brother he never had.

“It’s fine,” he said slowly, getting up on his feet to give Tsukamoto’s hair a quick ruffle. “I don’t need anything.”

Blue eyes met his with a look of skepticism. “A-Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” Kimishita stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. For a moment he stared at the ground. Then he spoke up again, quietly and hesitantly. “But... one more thing.”

A flush of embarrassment crept over his face, but he ignored it. Still staring at his shoes, he turned around again, facing his underclassman as well as he could. “Tsukamoto... thank you.”

“Senpai...”

Kimishita blushed even redder, looking up to be met with the brightest of smiles. He clicked his tongue, embarrassment growing. “What?”

“You just called me Tsukamoto!” The second-year’s smile widened. “You never call me by my name!”

“I often do. You just don’t notice.” Kimishita turned away, hiding his blush even though he knew it was futile. “Now get your ass back to practice! You’re not here to chat, nimrod!”

Tsukamoto nodded earnestly and hurried back on the pitch. Kimishita gazed at him with half a fond smile on his face, but inside his chest his heart was twisting. His teammates... his friends... how did these people always manage to make him feel so disgustingly, overwhelmingly loved?

A lump caught in his throat. He didn’t want to leave.

_He didn’t want to leave!_

\---

Practice had lasted forever. Kimishita felt like he had sat on the bench for a week, relieved to finally be able to walk around again instead of watching his teammates play on the pitch where he belonged with them.

He should head home now. He had a shop to mind and homework to do, but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to have the house all to himself, the quiet, the loneliness. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

Kimishita was so lost in his own mind that he didn’t notice the chorus of voices at the school gate, the surprised exclamations and hushed whispers and calls for his name.

“Hey, earth to Kimishita-kun!” Kazama waved a hand in front of his face. “You still there?”

“I’m absent,” he shot back impatiently. “What do you want?”

Kazama pointed towards the school gate. Kimishita followed his gaze, expecting to see something perfectly insignificant.

And then he saw her.

He couldn’t remember ever meeting her in person, but he knew her face. He had seen the pictures on his father’s nightstand, over and over again. There was no mistaking it. It was her.

The one person he’d never wanted to see at his school gate.

“Mom...?”


	20. Anger

_Mom._

Why?

A million questions spun around in Kimishita’s head. What was she doing here? Why here? Why now? How had she found him?

What was happening?

Kazama stepped up next to him, looping an arm around his shoulder. For once Kimishita didn’t recoil at the invasion of personal space. He took comfort in the arm draped around him, the familiar presence of someone he knew well, someone who wasn’t a complete stranger bursting into his life without warning. Someone... who actually belonged here.

“You asked for Kimishita Atsushi, right?” Kazama addressed his mother, pointing at him. “This one’s the only one we have. Is he the droid you were looking for?”

Kimishita wanted to slap him, both for giving him out to his mother and for adding that tasteless joke, but he restrained himself. Kazama didn’t know what was going on here. For all he knew this might be the most ordinary situation in the world.

Kimishita stumbled forward, trying to keep his expression blank. Behind the mask his blood was boiling. All the bitterness, all the resentment, all the anger and hatred from sixteen years that had festered inside him rose back to the surface, threatening to erupt from under his skin like a volcano.

“I’m Kimishita Atsushi,” he said coolly, not looking at his mother’s eyes. “Can I help you?”

She flinched as if she had been hurt. Kimishita clenched his fists. What the hell was she hurt for? They were virtual strangers. Maybe if she’d actually bothered to visit once in awhile and show that she cared, he wouldn’t have to introduce himself to the woman who had given birth to him now.

“Atsu– I mean...” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat, bracing her shoulders with a confidence she didn’t have. “I’m... My name is Hayami Hanae. I’m your... do you know who I am?”

_Your mother._

Kimishita almost laughed. This was absurd. It was so absurd.

But the others were still looking at them with curiosity, and he restrained himself. He didn’t say anything; he just nodded.

His mother– no, Hayami-san took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. “Then... do you have a moment? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

_No,_ his mind said. _No,_ his entire body screamed, recoiling and protesting as if he was being dragged to his own execution. But his mouth said something else.

“...All right. If it’s not for long.”

Damn his gawking teammates. If it hadn’t been for them, he’d be on the run already.

\---

The question left his mouth as soon as they were alone. “What are you doing here?”

Hayami-san stopped walking next to him, turning to look at him with those green eyes that were so disgustingly like his own, the same alarmed expression Kimishita wore when he was caught off guard. _Stop looking like that,_ he wanted to say. _Stop looking so much like me! You have no right to look like me when you spent sixteen years pretending your husband and son didn’t exist!_

Deep down he knew it was absurd and irrational. She had already looked like this long before he was born. But it still made him angry. Why did he have to look like the parent who had deserted him? Why did he have to look like a goddamn traitor?

“Atsushi,” she said hesitantly, and Kimishita flinched at the use of his first name. _Don’t call me that,_ he wanted to scream. _You’re not my mother!_

“Atsushi, I know what happened. To Sei... and to you.” She took a breath. “I’m here to offer my help.”

_Sei._ She was calling his father a nickname. How could she? After breaking his heart, how could she still call him that as if nothing had happened?

“Your help with what?” he asked coldly, biting down on the fury threatening to make way from under his skin. “What are you talking about?”

“The accident! Sei needs a surgery to be able to walk again, right?” Her voice was growing urgent, agitated. “I’ll pay for it. But he won’t let me unless you ask me to help.” Hayami-san stepped closer, looking straight into Kimishita’s eyes. “Atsushi, I’m not asking you to accept me as your mother. I’m not even asking you for forgiveness. But please... ask me to help.”

Ask _her_ for help? Kimishita scowled, anger and resentment and wounded pride finally boiling over, spilling out of him with every word he spoke. “Why should I?” he growled. “So you can betray us again like you did back then?”

Hayami-san staggered back as if she’d been hit in the face. “I–”

“So you ditch us for no reason, and then you suddenly come back and try to act like nothing happened?” Kimishita’s voice trembled with rage, his whole body shaking with fury, sixteen years of fury and bitterness. “And then what? You planning to ditch us again if you get tired? Don’t screw with me!” He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, nails digging into his palms until he could feel blood trickling over his fingers. “I’ll never forgive you for what you did to Pops! You broke his heart! All those years he was waiting for you to come back and you never came! He still has a picture of you on his nightstand and you never even called him! For all those years he still loved you and you never gave a flying fuck! And now you’re expecting me to come crawling to you and ask you for help? Who do you think you are?”

Hayami-san stared at him, wide-eyed. Tears glimmered in her eyes. Her whole expression was tight with pain and guilt, a million regrets written all across her face. She looked small now, fragile even. For a split second Kimishita almost felt a little sorry for her.

Then her face shifted to anger, hardening with spite and grim determination. “Idiot,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “So you’d rather see your father bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life than ask me for help?”

A stab of guilt shot through Kimishita’s chest. He pushed it down, furious at himself. “He won’t end up in a wheelchair,” he shot back, more confident than he had ever felt about the matter. “We’ll find another way! One that doesn’t involve begging a traitor for help!”

“Like what?” she scoffed. “Being scouted by a pro team? Then what about your ankle, I wonder?”

Kimishita froze. An icy chill ran down his back, a dark premonition. “Who...” His voice came out shaken, alarmed. “Who told you about that?”

There was only one person who knew about it. But it couldn’t have been him. It couldn’t possibly have been him.

Hayami-san clicked her tongue. “Your friend told me!” she snapped. “He traveled all the way to Aomori by himself to tell me everything because neither of you would! He wouldn’t even wait till I returned from my business trip! That’s how much he cares about you! Won’t you at least accept my help for his sake?”

Kimishita couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe her words. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel.

Kiichi had told her. Kiichi had traveled after her just to tell her about everything. He must have taken the train to Aomori and searched her out, looked for a hotel in a completely foreign place, talked to a complete stranger just because he had the hopes that she might help. He hadn’t run away because he hated him. He had disappeared because he had thought of a plan, a way to help Kimishita even after everything that had gone wrong.

Could this be true? This had to be a mistake. It was too much to hope.

But who except Kiichi knew about his plan and his injury? And most of all, who but Kiichi would do something like this?

Hope flickered up in his heart, bright and fragile. But there was something else too, something dark that twisted in his gut. Disappointment... betrayal. He had told Kiichi how he felt about his mother. He had told him about the grudge, the resentment and spite, his refusal to seek her help even if she had the last slice of bread in the world and he was starving. And Kiichi had ignored all that and gone to her anyway. It was Kiichi’s fault that she was here now, trying to force her way back into his life and guilting him into accepting her help when he never wanted to see or hear her again, ever.

He clenched his fists. _Why didn’t you think of that, you self-centered idiot? I didn’t tell you about my mother so you could go running to her and rat me out!_

But at the same time he couldn’t be angry. Kiichi had only done this because he wanted to help him. Kimishita had thought he had given up, and Kiichi had done the opposite. He had still continued to help, even when Kimishita would never have accepted it.

Kiichi... had done this out of loyalty. Out of friendship. He didn’t hate him. There might still be a chance.

_Please let this be true._

What should he do? How should he feel? He couldn’t be angry at Kiichi. But he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t accept his mother’s help. He was still furious. He was still bitter.

But he was so, so confused.

It didn’t feel right, letting all of Kiichi’s efforts go to waste. But what else should he do? He’d never forgive himself if he asked Hayami-san for help. He wasn’t that weak.

_I’m sorry, Kiichi. But there must be another way. One that doesn’t involve crawling to this traitor for help._

“Hayami-san,” he said sharply, and she flinched at the name. “I’ll never accept anything from you. No apologies and no help! You had the chance to give us both and you missed it!” He clicked his tongue, spinning on his heel. “This is wasting my time. If that’s all, I’m going home. I still have a shop to mind.”

Before she could reply, he stormed down the street, running blindly into the direction of his house. His head was spinning. His mind was a mess. He didn’t know what to feel or what to do. All he knew was that he felt confused and angry. And very, very small.

“Atsushi, wait!”

He quickened his pace, not looking back. He didn’t want to see her again. He didn’t want to hear her. He wanted to forget that this had ever happened. He wanted to keep pretending she was gone, dead or overseas or somewhere else where she was out of reach, it didn’t matter. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be in his life. This was wrong!

But most of all, he didn’t want to look back and doubt his own decision.

“Atsushi! Atsushi, _for fuck’s sake!_ ”

He stumbled over his own feet. Hayami-san caught up to him in a heartbeat, sprinting up to his side barefoot, clutching her business heels in one hand. “Don’t be selfish!” she yelled at him, grabbing his arm. “At least think about it! Just hear me out before you run off, I’ll explain everything!”

“I don’t need your explanations!” Kimishita yanked his arm from her iron grip. “Let me go!”

“Here!”

Something was shoved into his hand. Something small and flat... a business card?

Kimishita scoffed. _Some mother you are, giving a business card to your own kid._

“Call me,” she said as he spun around, starting to hurry away. “If you change your mind, call me!”

Kimishita clenched his fists, crumpling the paper of the card. He could barely resist the urge to toss it. But he didn’t throw it away. He just crumpled it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

\---

“Kazama-kun, wait.”

Kazama paused at the tug at his sleeve. Turning around, he found himself face to face with Tsukushi, his boyfriend’s warm hands curling around his own, gripping it tightly. Tsukushi’s eyes were stubborn as their gazes met and locked, bright with resolution, his cheeks a determined shade of pink. Kazama gave him a slight smile. He knew that look too well. Whatever it was that Tsukushi wanted from him, he wouldn’t be able to say no.

Placing his free hand on top of Tsukushi’s, he returned his boyfriend’s gaze with a look of curiosity. “What’s wrong, Tsukushi?”

Tsukushi’s frown deepened, worried and somehow motherly. “You noticed it too, right, Kazama-kun?” He lowered his voice, as if he was afraid of being overheard. “Something’s wrong with Kimishita-senpai. And probably Ooshiba-senpai too.”

Kazama tipped his head towards him with interest, listening.

“I mean...” Tsukushi looked down, then back at Kazama. “Before the match Kimishita-senpai looked all stressed, and then he and Ooshiba-senpai didn’t talk for a day... and then after the match they both stayed behind in the locker room and when they got on the bus they both had red eyes and looked really down, even though we won... and then yesterday Kimishita-senpai slept till three in the afternoon when he’s never even late and Ooshiba-senpai disappeared entirely and Kimishita-senpai looked really, really sad today but he wouldn’t tell me what happened and...” He took a deep breath, then he looked straight into Kazama’s eyes, determined and fierce. “I want to help them, Kazama-kun! I don’t know how yet, but I really do! So, um... will you help me help them, Kazama-kun?”

Kazama didn’t even need time to think about that one. He just grinned from ear to ear, leaning down to rest his forehead against Tsukushi’s, resisting the urge to press a kiss somewhere on that adorable face. “You’re so nice, Tsukushi,” he said affectionately. “You’re turning into a real mom friend, you know that?”

“Kazama-kun, you’re exaggerating...”

“But you’re right.” Kazama pulled away from Tsukushi’s forehead, only to step up beside him and loop an arm around his shoulders. “These two definitely need help. I’m in!” He winked at Tsukushi, who beamed with joy. “And how could I say no to you, anyway?”

\---

Voices.

Ooshiba stirred in his sleep, tossing from one side to the other. There were voices around him, calling his name, saying things he couldn’t comprehend. They sounded familiar, but he didn’t recognize them. All he knew was that they were everywhere. They were distant and distorted, some repeating the same phrases on endless loop like broken records, some phasing in and out of existence, leaving him with unconnected fragments of words he didn’t understand. But they were everywhere. In every direction. No matter where he turned, they were always there, always following him no matter how hard he tried to escape them.

Who were they? What were they saying? Why were they here?

Ooshiba wanted to call back to them. He wanted to ask them so many questions, but his tongue was lead in his mouth. His lips wouldn’t move. He was completely mute, as if someone had cut his vocal chords and left him to lie there.

Voices. So many voices. More and more joined into the murmur, saying incomprehensible things, calling his name. His name. Over and over.

One of the voices grew louder than the others. It spoke clearer, almost as if it was right next to his ear, growing less distant and more and more real. And it always said the same word, like plea, a desperate call.

_Kiichi._

Ooshiba jolted awake.

For a second he didn’t know where he was. Everything looked so bright, way too bright, blinding his eyes until all he saw was white. Then he blinked, and forming around him was a familiar picture.

Ooshiba looked around. His room. He was in his room, in his bed, wearing his PJs and looking at his wall with his posters across from him. His shirt, shorts and sheets were drenched with sweat, and his hair felt sticky too. Aside from that everything seemed normal. It was just another morning– no, it wasn’t morning anymore. What time was it? Afternoon?

He shifted under the blanket, looking at the window, then at the room, then at himself. Something felt weird. How had he come here? He couldn’t remember it at all. Getting changed, going to bed... no, he couldn’t recall it. He couldn’t even recall going into his house at all. And why was it so late? Shouldn’t somebody have woken him up already, just to go to school?

What day was it, actually?

His stomach growled. Ooshiba ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair and scrambled out of bed, groaning. He could always think about that later. First things first, he had to shower, and then he had to get his hands on some food because he was starving. It wasn’t like he could get his brain to work before breakfast, anyway.

Stretching, he padded out of his room and into the shower, feeling the water trickle over his skin and soak through his hair and wash off all the sweat and exhaustion and uncomfortable feelings. For some reason he felt like he hadn’t showered for days. And he felt like his mouth hadn’t seen a drop of water for days, and he couldn’t resist drinking several handfuls straight from the faucet as he toweled his hair dry. That was better. Now for some food.

Ooshiba made his way back to his room, put on some fresh clothes, and walked down into the kitchen to raid the fridge. There wasn’t much in it that could satisfy his appetite, but the rice cooker was still half-filled with rice, and he shoveled three giant bowls down his throat before he was interrupted by a voice from the door.

“Oh, Kiichi, you’re awake?”

Ooshiba gulped down a mouthful of rice and turned around to face Mikoto, ready to make a very angry comment about interrupting people when they were eating when he saw the look on her face. Relief... and a hint of worry.

Worry? Why was she worried?

“Morning, Sis,” he said, putting down his bowl and chopsticks for the moment. “What happened?”

Mikoto planted her hands on her hips, frowning up at him. “What happened? That’s what I’m asking you! First you live at your friend’s house for weeks and won’t even tell us which friend, then suddenly you come back and collapse on the doorstep and sleep for a full day! Sheesh, what did you even do? Mom said you were completely exhausted!”

_Exhausted... come back... friend..._

Ooshiba’s eyes went wide. Little by little it all came back to him. His visit to the hospital. The trip to Aomori. The hotel, the flight back, Hayami-san...

Kimishita!

He stumbled over his own feet. Without saying another word, he darted through the room, into the corridor, up the stairs. His phone! His phone was still dead! He still hadn’t told Kimishita where he was!

He checked the nightstand, but his phone wasn’t there. He searched through all his pockets, but his phone wasn’t there. His schoolbag... his backpack... where were they? Where was his phone? Where was his charger? Where was everything?

“Sis!” he called through the entire house. “Mom! Dad! Where’s my phone?”

“It’s in my room!” his sister yelled back from downstairs. “It was dead and you didn’t have your charger, so I plugged it in with mine!”

Without another word, Ooshiba darted out of his room and into Mikoto’s, snatching his phone from the charger and turning it on.

The screen lit up at a snail’s pace. It took forever for the code screen to appear, and Ooshiba typed in his code so fast he almost broke it. Another loading screen. Damn it, why was that thing taking so long? He had to text Kimishita already, call him, anything–

Before he could open his contacts or messages, his phone lit up with an incoming call. The caller ID said _Kazama_.

Kazama? Now? Why now? He didn’t have time to talk to Kazama, damn it–

His phone kept buzzing. Ooshiba hesitated. Maybe he should answer Kazama’s call, really quickly. It might be important... and maybe Kazama was calling for Kimishita. Maybe. Very, very maybe. But not impossible.

Swiping across the screen to answer, he held the phone up to his ear with an impatient “Hello?”

“Hello, we’d like to report a missing person,” Kazama’s voice greeted him from the other end of the line, cheerful and chipper as ever. “Missing, one Kiichiman. Tall, red hair, last seen wearing a black Seiseki jersey with the number 7. Answers to ‘Vice-captain,’ ‘Hero’ or ‘Ace.’” He burst out laughing. “Dude, what happened? We’ve been trying to reach you for ages!”

“Just woke up,” Ooshiba said quickly, cutting him off. “What do you want?”

“Ooshiba-senpai!”

Ooshiba paused. Tsukamoto’s voice? Why were they both calling him?

“Ooshiba-senpai, we really need your help!” Tsukamoto sounded anguished, panicked even, his voice desperate and pleading. “Have you heard anything from Kimishita-senpai?”

_What the...?!_

“Kimishita?” Ooshiba replied, half puzzled, half alarmed. “Why?”

“He hasn’t come to school since the match on Thursday.” Kazama’s voice lost all cheerfulness, taking on a tone of worry. “Yesterday he wouldn’t even reply to our messages till the afternoon... said his sleep schedule got screwed up or something and that he slept till like three p.m... and today we haven’t been able to reach him at all so we were hoping you know something since you guys seem close?”

“Y-Yes, because something is definitely wrong! And he won’t tell us but we know something is off!” Tsukamoto sounded even more worried now, his voice shaky as if he was on the verge of tears. “So if you know how to help him, please, Ooshiba-senpai–”

“Wait a sec.”

Before either of the second-years could say anything else, Ooshiba hung up.

His phone was trembling in his hands. Something had happened to Kimishita. Something had definitely happened. Was he sick? Had he been out looking for him for too long and become sick? Was he at home right now, all by himself, with no one around to look after him?

What had he done, what had he done, _what had he done?_

Shaking with fear and premonition and worry, he opened his messages. There were dozens of new ones, from all his teammates, asking about his well-being and wishing him speedy recovery. There were missed calls, too. A zillion missed calls from Kazama just now. A few calls from the others. And then there was Kimishita. So many missed calls from Kimishita. And countless unread messages.

_Damn it._

Gritting his teeth, Ooshiba steeled himself and opened the message thread.

The first message was from a few minutes after his phone had died. _Hey, where the hell did you go?_ it read. _Say something before you leave, you ass!_

Another one, about ten minutes later. _Don’t just hang up on me and disappear! Did you turn off your phone or what?_

_Kiichi, this isn’t funny! Answer my calls or get your ass home!_

Ooshiba scrolled through the messages, his heart clenching in his chest. There were so many messages. Messages after messages, sent over the course of the entire evening, the whole night. So many.

_Just letting you know that you’re missing out on your favorite dinner. You want none of that?_

_Tch, fine. If you won’t reply, guess I have no choice but to go looking for you myself._

_Kiichi, I’m serious! Reply to me! Where the fuck are you?_

_You better have a good explanation for making me walk all across the city, dumbass!_

_Is everything okay?_

_Has something happened to you or what? Turn your phone back on already, moron!_

_Kiichi, answer me! Where are you? What’s wrong?_

_You don’t have to tell me. Just reply something! Anything! Send me a keysmash or a fucking emoji I don’t even care._

_What happened to you? Kiichi!_

_Fuck this. I’m going home. Do whatever you want, I’m not looking for you anymore._

And one last message, sent at five in the morning.

_Please come back._

Ooshiba’s hands trembled. The message blurred in front of his eyes. Tears fogged up his vision as his heart was twisting and tearing in his chest, guilt and shame burning hot inside him.

He’d been stupid. He’d been so stupid. Why had he run away when Kimishita needed him? This was all his fault! He had made Kimishita walk the city all night looking for him and worrying for him and it was his fault that he was sick now! Sick, alone, with nobody to take care of him, all because Ooshiba had been selfish and stupid. If only he had stayed there! If only he had stayed by Kimishita’s side where he belonged! What had he done?

This was it. No more mistakes.

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he stormed down the stairs, slipping on his shoes and throwing on his jacket. He ran out through the door, hurrying down the street, sprinting, racing, always trying to go faster, faster. His sides hurt, but he kept running. His lungs were gasping for air, but he kept running. He kept running and running and didn’t stop until he finally stumbled through a familiar store entrance, coming to a sliding, skidding halt.

“Kimishita, you idiot!”


	21. Please

“Kimishita, you idiot!”

Kimishita rose from his chair. His pencil fell from his hand, clattering to the ground and rolling into a corner. He didn’t even notice. His entire body was frozen. His eyes were glued on the figure standing in the doorframe, breathless and anguished. The only thing on his mind was one word, one single question.

_Why?_

“Kiichi,” he whispered, his voice failing him. “Kiichi,” he said again, louder, “what the–”

“Idiot!” Kiichi yelled at him. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re always the same! Stop forcing yourself!”

Kimishita stared at him with growing confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shot back, irritated. “I’m just minding the store and my business! How is that forcing myself?”

“Just keep it closed, asshole! If you’re sick then go rest!” Kiichi stormed across the shop just as Kimishita hurried towards him, grabbing his collar and shaking him. “And answer the others, you jerk! They’ve been trying to reach you and they’re all worried like crazy! If you don’t go to school for two days, at least tell them you’re fine!”

Kimishita blinked. He was getting more and more puzzled by the second. “Shut up!” he growled, yanking Kiichi’s hands away from his collar. “Stop spouting random nonsense! Who the fuck told you I wasn’t at school today?”

“Don’t lie!” Kiichi grabbed his shoulders now, gripping them like a lifeline. “Kazama just called me and told me everything! What were you thinking? Don’t just disappear on people and leave them worrying!”

Oh, the irony.

“Look who’s talking!” Kimishita glared up at Kiichi, anger and worry and frustration erupting from him in a mix of red-hot fury. “Should you really go around telling people not to disappear on others without warning or leaving a message? What about you disappearing on me after the match then, huh? What about you not answering my calls and texts? You didn’t even tell me where you were going! Should you really be lecturing me about vanishing into thin air and making other people worried sick?”

Kiichi stumbled back as if he’d been hit. He paled, his face hardening with guilt and pain. “I...”

“And besides,” Kimishita continued in a slightly calmer tone, “you’ve been tricked. I was at school today, and I’m fine. Kazama lied to you, which you would know if you hadn’t run off and cut all contact for two whole days! You better have a good explanation for this, you idiot!”

“I do!”

Kimishita stepped back. There was something in Kiichi’s eyes that made him fall silent, gazing at him as he waited for him to speak again, listening.

“I wanted to contact your mom,” Kiichi said quietly. “I knew you’d never let me but I wanted to try it, maybe she could help! So I went out without telling you where I was going... I thought I’d be back soon, but I went to her workplace and they told me she was on a business trip so I went to her hotel to talk to her and I was gonna text you and tell you I’d stay at my place but my phone died just when you called me and then when I got home yesterday I was so tired I just collapsed and slept till like an hour ago and that’s when Kazama called me...” He hung his head. “...and... and I read your texts, I... Kimishita, I...”

“Kiichi.”

Kimishita’s voice was quiet, almost gentle. He knew he should be mad. Kiichi had broken his trust. He had run away on him without a word. He had searched out the mother Kimishita had never wanted to see again. And he’d been stupid and impulsive and thoughtless, forgetting to charge his phone and overburdening himself to the point of collapsing when he arrived at his house and leaving Kimishita to worry and fear alone for two whole days. But he couldn’t help it. Not when Kiichi was standing in front of him like that, quiet and heartbroken and full of regret, gazing down at his shoes and looking so much smaller than usual. Not when he was so absurdly, overwhelmingly glad to just have him back.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“I... I know, asshole!” Kiichi stuck his hands in his pockets and pouted, a helpless gesture of defiance. “I’m not gonna forget to charge my phone again, okay? And I’m never gonna disappear on you again! But...” He glanced up, hope glimmering bright in his eyes. “You... You’re not mad I talked to your mom?”

Kimishita sighed quietly. “I already knew, you moron. She told me.”

“She...” Kiichi stumbled over his words. “You saw her? I mean, she talked to you? I mean, uh... what... what did you say?”

“You know what I think of her.” Kimishita scowled. “You think I’d ever accept help from that woman?”

Kiichi paled. His face dropped. “You... you said no?”

“Of course I said no!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I can do this by myself! I don’t need to come crawling to the woman who deserted me!”

Kiichi lowered his head. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. His shoulders trembled. “You... _You idiot!_ ”

Kimishita stumbled back. “Wha–?!”

“Idiot!” Kiichi burst out, grabbing his shoulders. “Are you saying I did all that for nothing, you asshole? Are you saying I traveled across the whole fucking country just so you can still leave in a couple weeks? You stupid, selfish...”

A stab of pain shot through Kimishita’s heart. _I’m so sorry, Kiichi. I’m letting all your efforts go to waste._

But at the same time he was angry. Angry that Kiichi was telling him what to do. Angry that Kiichi wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t accept Hayami-san’s help. Why should he have to defend himself for his own choices? He was old enough to make decisions by himself!

“Listen up, you moron,” he growled, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with fury. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do, huh? And nobody asked you to look for my so-called mother in the first place! Didn’t I tell you I’d rather sell my soul than go to her for help? What the hell were you thinking, seeking her out after I told you that? You thought I’d forgive her on the spot, or what? A spoiled brat like you can’t even begin to understand my reasons!” He took a deep breath, his whole body trembling. “Stop getting all up in my business! I can do this on my own! And even if I don’t make it, so what? I’ll only leave Tokyo and Seiseki! It’s not like I’m leaving the world! So who’s the selfish one here, huh? Don’t make decisions for other people!”

Kiichi was silent for a moment. His eyes were shining suspiciously. A look of pain and anguish crossed his face. Kimishita swallowed, his anger fading. For a second he thought Kiichi was going to run and leave him again, this time for sure, forever. This time... he must have ruined it for sure.

But just as he opened his mouth to apologize, Kiichi spoke again. His voice was shaking, and his face was driven with pain, but his tone wasn’t angry or even hurt... it was desperate.

“I know I’m selfish,” he said bitterly. “I know! But... I can’t help it! I can’t just let you leave and do nothing!”

“Kiichi...” Kimishita clenched his fists, his heart tightening in his chest. “You did something,” he said quietly. “Don’t say you didn’t do anything. I just can’t accept this kind of help.”

“ _That’s not it!_ ”

Kimishita looked up.

Kiichi’s expression had changed. There was a stubbornness now that hadn’t been there before, a grim determination. He looked as if he was gathering all his courage to say whatever he was about to say.

“Hey,” he said, “do you know why I went to the same high school as you?”

Kimishita shrugged. “Wasn’t it coincidence? You seemed pretty pissed about it.”

Kiichi laughed joylessly. “That was pretending.”

“Wha–”

“You think I just happened to go to Seiseki? The same school you went?” He laughed again, but the laugh turned into a pained grimace, tears shining bright in his eyes. “That was a lie! I went to Seiseki because you were going! I wanted to keep playing for the same team as you, jerk-face! The thought that you could play with other guys... pass to some other forward who isn’t me... it pisses me off! You don’t need another forward! I’m your forward, and you’re my midfielder! We belong on the same side of the field!” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “Together!”

Kimishita gazed up at him. His heart hurt. He wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat, forming a lump that made it hard to breathe. “Kiichi...”

“It’s not that I wanna do something! I don’t want you to leave!” Kiichi’s voice broke completely. Tears gathered in his eyes. “I want you to stay here! With me! It’s not the same without you! What am I supposed to do if you leave, asshole? You’ve helped me through so much! When I didn’t know what to do, you gave me advice! When everyone was pissed at my choices you kept supporting me! I wouldn’t be the same without you! You’re a hero, Kimishita!” He ran a hand over his eyes, hanging his head, his shoulders shaking. “And I know you don’t wanna leave too... you’ve always been so strong and this time you’re the one who needs my help... and I... This one time, I wanted to be the one to help you! I...” His breath hitched with a sob. “I just wanted to be... your hero...”

Kimishita caught his breath. A hundred emotions were swirling in his chest, a thousand words spinning in his head. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to reassure Kiichi, tell him that it was all right, that he wasn’t going anywhere yet and that he’d find a way to stay here. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. It wasn’t what Kiichi needed to hear. What did he need? He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand himself.

And then it hit him. Kiichi’s words, his tears, his desperation. He understood. He understood everything.

“Dumbass,” he said gently, ignoring the way his own voice was cracking at the edges. “Can’t you confess like a normal person?”

Kiichi looked up, eyes wide and still wet with tears, his face paling with shock and embarrassment. “Wha–?!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. His face heated up, but he didn’t care. His heart was racing at a mile a minute, but he didn’t care. He was saying it now. It was what he needed to say. And it was what Kiichi needed to hear.

“I love you too, you idiot!”

He’d said it.

Kimishita kept his gaze locked on the ground, blushing furiously. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He had said it. After feeling it for so long, he had finally said it out loud.

Kiichi was completely silent. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t move at all. Kimishita looked up to find his face bright red, too overwhelmed to move.

Then his eyes lit up, glimmering with a bright blue hope, soft and warm and shy as if he was afraid of getting too happy yet. “You... do?”

Kimishita blushed even redder, averting his gaze. “Of course, moron.”

“Really?”

“...yes.”

“Really really?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Shut up!”

“Asshole!”

Before Kimishita could react, he found himself grabbed by the collar, a pair of hands yanking him closer. “You jerk! Cheater!” Kiichi yelled in his face. “I wanted to say it first!”

“Let go of me, idiot! You did!”

Kiichi abruptly let go of him. Bright eyes rested on him, wide and questioning, even as Kimishita already regretted his slip-up. “Huh?”

“...never mind.”

“I said it?” Kiichi insisted, growing more curious and confused by the second. “How?”

_Oh, damn it all._

“You’ve been saying it for a long time now.” Kimishita didn’t look at him. His face was glowing. “I’m... sorry for not noticing earlier.”

Kiichi didn’t say anything. He just reached for Kimishita’s hand, carefully picking it up as if it was made of glass and gently intertwining their fingers, slow and hesitant. Kimishita tightened his grip with a smile. Kiichi pulled his hand away as if he’d burned it.

For a moment they both stood in front of each other, staring at the ground, blushing and fidgeting and unsure what to do. Now that they had confessed to each other, what were they supposed to do? What were they supposed to say? Were they a couple now? What happened after a confession?

“Hey.”

Kimishita looked up. Kiichi still wasn’t facing him, blushing furiously as he glared at his toes. “Hey now that we...” His voice trailed off. “Now that we confessed, uh... does that mean we’re a, uh... we’re...”

“Don’t know.” Kimishita blushed, turning away. “I... guess we are.”

Kiichi didn’t answer. His eyes stayed glued on the floor. Blushing redder than his hair, he reached down for Kimishita’s hand, picked it up and pressed the lightest kiss to his knuckles.

Kimishita blinked in surprise, but he didn’t pull back. Kiichi’s lips felt nice against his hand, soft and warm and strangely gentle. The sensation of the kiss lingered on his knuckles, a fleeting touch tingling against his skin like an echo.

Kiichi lowered his head until the tips of his bangs brushed against Kimishita’s hand. “C-Can I... do this...?”

“...go ahead.”

Kiichi nodded awkwardly. His lips lingered half an inch over Kimishita’s hand, his breath warm against his skin. Then he closed the distance and kissed his fingertips, his palm, his wrist, never more than a quick brush of lips against skin, shy and lighter than a breath. Tightening his grip on his hand, Kiichi stepped up and pressed a quick peck to Kimishita’s forehead, another one to his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids as they gently fluttered shut. Each one of Kiichi’s touches was light, soft, as if he was holding something incredibly fragile and precious that he was afraid of breaking.

Kimishita held back a chuckle as Kiichi’s breath tickled his jawline. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re real.” Kiichi’s voice was as soft as his touches. “You sure you’re not just some illusion who’s gonna disappear in a sec?”

Kimishita snorted. Then he smiled. _Stupid as usual. But this time I can’t really blame you._

Smirking to himself, he got up on his tip-toes, reached for Kiichi’s collar, and pulled him down into a kiss. “Does this feel like a fucking illusion to you?”

Kiichi blushed and stumbled back. His face was glowing red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Then he finally leaned down and buried his face in Kimishita’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. “Shit,” he mumbled into the fabric of Kimishita’s shirt. “I love you.”

“Idiot.” Kimishita tangled a hand in Kiichi’s hair, smiling at nothing. “You really are stupid, you know that?”

“And you love this stupid guy.” Kimishita didn’t have to see Kiichi’s face to know he was grinning from ear to ear, the same stupid proud obnoxious grin that had earned him so many punches in the face.

“I know.”

Kiichi tightened his hold. “I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled against his shoulder. “Ever.”

“You can’t stay like this for the rest of your life, moron.”

“Says who?”

“Says realism and common sense.”

“I can still try.”

Kimishita sighed and said nothing. Kiichi’s embrace was squeezing the air out of his lungs, but for once he didn’t mind. They had gone through so much, fights, misunderstandings, miscommunications, the fear of being separated, tears and heartbreak and the fear of losing the other forever. He couldn’t blame Kiichi for being happy. He couldn’t really blame him for wanting to hold onto him either. After all, he felt the same way.

Somebody walked past the windows outside, making the door swoosh open. Kimishita jumped. Dammit. They were still in public, and somebody could walk in on them at any second. It was a miracle no one had already.

“Kiichi,” he said gently, nudging his vice-captain, “let go.”

He pulled even closer. “No.”

“Let go, dammit! You want someone to see us like this?” Kimishita yanked at the back of Kiichi’s shirt, slowly dragging him off. “What do you want people to think?”

Kiichi scratched his head, pouting. “Uh, that we’re a couple?”

“Don’t say that so casually! I don’t want the whole universe to know!” Clicking his tongue, Kimishita sat back down at his desk, trying to figure out where he had been in his homework. “I still have something to do, anyway. Can’t do that with you clinging to me like a newborn koala.”

“Okay, okay, asshole,” Kiichi grumbled, taking a chair to sit down next to Kimishita, peering over his shoulder. “But I’m still staying with you.”

Kimishita gave him a long look. He had half a mind to send him back home, but the feeling quickly faded. He didn’t want Kiichi to leave yet. He wanted to enjoy his presence a little longer. There hadn’t been nearly enough Kiichi in his life for the past few days, after all.

“Fine,” he grumbled, picking up the pencil. “I guess I can tell you what you missed in class today.”

\---

They sat together like this for a long time. Kimishita finished his homework and explained it to Kiichi, and Kiichi sat by his side, listening and occasionally drawing little doodles into his notebook, only to be slapped. Their conversation strayed from their studies to school to the team, and from there on to a hundred other topics as they kept talking and talking, forgetting about time. Every so often a customer would walk in, and whoever was less busy at the moment would take care of them, but they were both glad every time the door closed behind them and they were alone once more.

It was strange, strangely comfortable. They seemed exactly like they had been before hell had broken loose, back when Kiichi had just started to spend his afternoons here and keep an eye on Kimishita. There were still so many things unsaid between them, so many unresolved issues, but right now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they had each other, they loved each other, and they took comfort in each other’s presence. Everything else could wait.

Finally Kimishita took a look at the clock and nearly knocked something over. It was way past closing time. Where had all the time gone? It had felt like minutes!

“I’m closing up the store,” he announced as he got up, taking out the keys. “You should probably go home, it’s getting late.”

Kiichi didn’t budge.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Kiichi, go home!”

“No!” Kiichi said, pouting. “I still wanna stay!”

“Don’t be a baby! Shouldn’t you go to sleep soon? You only just woke up today!”

“Yeah, a couple hours ago! I’m not tired.” Kiichi stretched out over the desk. “I’m still staying.”

Kimishita half considered kicking him out. He didn’t. He knew it was the reasonable thing to do, but truth be told he was glad Kiichi didn’t want to leave yet. He didn’t want him to go home either.

“Fine,” he said as he put up the Closed sign and locked the door. “But not too long, all right?”

Kiichi stuck out his tongue at him.

\---

They spent the evening being lazy. Kimishita wanted to cook dinner, but Kiichi wouldn’t let him, and they ended up raiding the fridge and snacking on whatever they found, finishing all the leftovers Kimishita hadn’t decided what to do with yet without even bothering to heat them up. Kiichi still refused to leave after eating, and so they eventually found themselves sitting on the floor in Kimishita’s room, Uno cards between them as Kimishita scored his seventh consecutive victory.

“Asshole!” Kiichi burst out as he slammed his cards down on the floor, sulking. “Cheating bastard! What’s your secret?”

“Just a little tactic and luck,” Kimishita replied, picking up Kiichi’s cards and gathering them together into a stack. “You’re easy to beat, idiot.”

“Yeah, right! Then why do you always have all those take-two or take-four cards? You totally cheated!” Kiichi got up and sat down on Kimishita’s bed, crossing his arms and pouting. “Fuck you! I’m not playing with you anymore!”

Kimishita sighed, gathering the cards and putting them back on the shelf where they belonged. “Then are you going home?”

“Hell no.”

Kimishita scowled at him, but he sat down on the bed next to him, leaning back on his hands. “Why don’t you just stay over?” he said sarcastically.

Kiichi looked at him, sparkly-eyed. “Can I?”

Kimishita resisted the urge to face-palm, but he sighed and nodded in defeat. It wasn’t like he could get Kiichi to be responsible and leave anytime soon. Besides, his stuff was already here anyway.

Smiling from ear to ear, Kiichi walked over into what was temporarily his room, got out his futon and changed into his pajamas while Kimishita brushed his teeth and got changed himself. Stretching, he sat down on the bed, gazing out through the window. Everything felt so nice and familiar. Kiichi was finally back, shuffling about in the next room, and Kimishita knew he’d be right next door when he woke up in the morning. Finally the silence was gone. Finally the apartment wasn’t empty anymore.

Just as he was about to curl up under the blanket and sleep, there was a knock on his door, and a moment later Kiichi padded in, running an awkward hand through his hair.

Kimishita sat up. “What’s the matter?”

“Can’t sleep yet,” he grumbled, sitting down next to him. “Woke up too late.”

“And?”

Kiichi looked at his feet. “Wanna talk till I get sleepy?”

“You better get sleepy soon, then.”

“That a yes?”

“Obviously!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “If I didn’t say yes, you’d just start nagging me anyway.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

Silence.

Kiichi flopped down on the mattress, dangling his legs off the edge of the bed. “Say something.”

“Why me, idiot?” Kimishita grumbled at him. “You’re the one who wanted to talk!”

Kiichi pouted. “Can’t think of anything.”

_Then don’t propose this in the first place,_ Kimishita wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. There was still so much he wanted to say to Kiichi; he just didn’t know where to start, what to say first or how to say it without embarrassing himself.

_Well, it’s fine. Can’t get much more embarrassing than a love confession, anyway._

He gazed out through the window, his eyes resting on the stars, following the different constellations. This part of the city was dark at night, dark enough to see more than the general blue-grayish urban haze above, dark enough to see suns and planets and galaxies twinkling down from an unfathomable distance.

“Say,” he said quietly, “how long do we know each other?”

Kiichi blinked in surprise, looking almost a little offended. “Five years,” he said bluntly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Since the first year of middle school.”

“I...” Kimishita’s face heated up. “I saw you before.”

“Huh?”

“I saw you play as a kid once,” he confessed, his voice barely louder than a mumble, the flush on his face invisible in the dark. “In elementary school. I was out playing soccer with my friends... and you were playing on the neighboring pitch.” He closed his eyes. “Looked like a fucking middle schooler. Wonder if there’s ever been a time when you weren’t a human beanpole.”

Kiichi didn’t say anything for a moment. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, uncharacteristically soft. “What did you think? When you saw me back then?”

“He’s tall.” Kimishita took a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning glow on his face. “And... good. I think I want to play together with that guy.” He opened one eye. “Those were my thoughts.”

“And then middle school happened.”

“Yeah. Although I didn’t recognize you at first.” Kimishita finally turned to look down at Kiichi’s face, half hidden behind messy bangs. “Just thought you seemed familiar.”

Kiichi grinned. “That’s fate.”

“Like hell it’s fate, dumbass! It’s called coincidence!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, turning away from him again. “We live close to each other and are both good at soccer, it wasn’t that unlikely for us to meet.”

Kiichi draped an arm over his face. “Still grateful we did.”

“Sap.”

“Shut up.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Kiichi rolled over, lying down on his stomach and burying his nose in the blanket. “It’s a nice thought though,” he mumbled, “this whole fate thing. Maybe we really are each other’s destiny. Like in the movies.” He stretched. “We should stay together then, right? It’s our fate.”

Well... the thought did sound nice. Even if it was just Kiichi’s usual nonsense, it didn’t sound half bad. Maybe it was only a dream, but in that case he wouldn’t mind dreaming a little himself. Just a little.

Not that he’d say that out loud. He just smirked, shaking his head at the idiot lying next to him. “Who’d have guessed you were such a hopeless romantic,” he remarked with a chuckle. “You’re not leaving with me if I have to move away, all right? We’ve had this before.”

“Way to ruin the mood, asshole!” Kiichi rolled over again, giving him an accusing glare. “Why not?”

“Because...” Kimishita’s voice trailed off. “Because I can’t have you risking your future!” he snapped, throwing a punch at his ribs. “You want to go pro, don’t you? Well, you can’t do that if you leave Seiseki and transfer to some mediocre team just because I’m going! What are you planning to do after you graduate, huh? Get into a college with your grades?”

Kiichi smiled from ear to ear. “I already got offered a pro contract though,” he said smugly.

Kimishita did a double take. “Wha–?! When– You did?”

“Yup.” Kiichi grinned, looking like pride had just developed a face. “After the finals. How ‘bout that?”

“So,” Kimishita replied drily, “did you accept it?”

“Uh...”

Kimishita narrowed his eyes. “Did you?”

“I... may or may not have told them... I’d never play for them, ever.”

Kimishita face-palmed.

“You’re even more stupid than I thought,” he snapped, whacking him over the forehead. “Did they give you their card and tell you to think it over? Then go tell them you changed your mind and accept the stupid contract! Don’t even think about declining that just because I got offered none, got that?”

Kiichi kept quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Then his face lit up with an idea. “I’ll do that,” he declared, “but only if you talk to your mom.”

Kimishita froze. “What the–?!”

“At least try, okay? She totally freaked out when I brought you up and canceled all her meetings to hear about you and fly back to Tokyo! I don’t think she left you ‘cause she’s a bad person.” Kiichi closed his eyes. “Seems pretty upset about what happened, I think she feels bad for leaving you guys. Don’t you wanna hear her out and know what happened?”

“I don’t care,” Kimishita snapped, old hostility boiling up again inside him. “She broke Pops’ heart when she left. He always waited for her and she never showed up or called. I can’t forgive her for that.”

“She’s still your mom!”

“That woman is not my mother! She’s only the person who gave birth to me! I only have one parent, and that’s enough!”

“Do it for your dad!” Kiichi burst out before going quiet once more. “And... for me.”

Kimishita hesitated. “I...”

“Just listen to her story.” Kiichi crossed his arms, pouting up at Kimishita. “Or else I’m not gonna accept my pro contract.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“You gonna do it or not?”

_For Pops. For Kiichi._

They were depending on him, and of course he couldn’t betray that.

Damn it. Damn all this nonsense.

“Fine,” he grumbled, flopping down next to Kiichi. “I’ll hear her out. But don’t expect me to accept her help.”

Kiichi looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Instead he just snaked an arm around him, closing his eyes. “Promise?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue impatiently. “Promise.”

They stayed like that in silence, eyes closed, legs dangling off the bed, Kiichi’s arm draped around Kimishita’s shoulder, playing with the tips of his hair. Neither of them felt like saying a word. The silence was comfortable, warm. Everything that had needed to be said had been said, and now a gentle quiet wrapped around them, calm and peaceful.

“Hey,” Kiichi said at last, his voice quiet and a little sleepy. “After we graduate, let’s live together. For real, I mean.”

Kimishita opened an eye. “What do you mean?”

“Getting an apartment together,” Kiichi muttered half to himself. “I go pro, and you go to college or whatever you wanna do. And we live together. As... roommates or...” He blushed, turning away. “...b-boyfriends.”

_Boyfriends, huh._

“Why not,” Kimishita said with a smirk. “As long as you pay the rent.”

“’Course.” Kiichi stretched out his arms over his head. “Hmm, I want a big TV in our apartment. And a couch. And I’m gonna get you a video game console, can’t believe you still don’t have one. And the tub’s gotta be huge and...”

Kimishita listened as Kiichi dreamed on, imagining their future apartment in minute detail. Normally he should call this ridiculous. They had been a couple for a few hours, and Kiichi was already talking about sharing an apartment. But this wasn’t just any romance. This was them, and they had been together for a very, very long time. It’d be fine.

Eventually Kiichi’s voice got sluggish, and he stifled a yawn after every second word. At long last he gave up on talking, drowsily rolling over and mumbling, “I’m gonna sleep.”

Just as Kimishita got up, expecting him to do the same, Kiichi scrambled under the covers and pulled them up to his nose.

“Hey,” Kimishita snapped, glaring down at him. “That’s my bed.”

He didn’t budge. “I know.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep now, genius?”

Kiichi shifted to the side, patting the mattress next to him.

Kimishita blushed and scowled. “Forget it! I’m sleeping in your room!”

“C’mon!” Kiichi looked up at him with big pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Please!”

Damn that guy and his unbearably cute face.

“All right,” Kimishita grumbled, crawling under the blanket next to him. “Move over, you giant.”

Kiichi smiled, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close to his chest, so close that Kimishita could hear his heart pounding, loud and suspiciously fast. He smirked to himself. So this guy was still nervous about doing couple things, no matter how natural he acted. That was somehow reassuring.

Within a few minutes Kiichi fell asleep, and Kimishita snuggled closer to him, still trying to believe this was real. Just yesterday he had thought Kiichi was gone for good, and today they were both here, on the mattress, on the same pillow, legs tangled so closely there was no telling which ones were whose, sharing each other’s warmth and holding each other close in this bed that was barely large enough for one of them. It was cramped, and it was strange, and Kimishita felt like his arm would fall asleep at any given second, but it felt so nice. He wouldn’t change this feeling for anything else in the world.

Feeling warm and loved and very, very happy, he drifted off into a calm, peaceful dream.


	22. Mother

Kimishita woke up to the rays of the sun tickling his face and a heavy weight crushing down on his chest. A warm, breathing heavy weight.

A snoring one, actually.

He stirred, trying to figure out where he was and what had happened. Why was he... who...?

The memories came back in an instant. Kiichi’s visit, the confession, the sleepover, their late-night talk. Falling asleep cuddled together in each other’s arms. They must have rolled over in their sleep, and now Kiichi was on top of him, his face somewhere between the pillow and his shoulder, drooling into Kimishita’s shirt. His arms were still tightly wrapped around Kimishita’s back, holding him close the way he used to hold pillows in his sleep back when they were in middle school.

Kimishita smiled to himself, relaxing into the hug. They could still stay like this for a while, he told himself. It was Sunday. They had nowhere to go, nowhere to be except here, lazily basking in each other’s warmth for a little longer.

Closing his eyes, he tangled his hand in Kiichi’s hair, playing with those soft, fluffy streaks of red, gently patting his head as he shifted until Kiichi’s hair tickled his cheek. His arm rested on Kiichi’s back, returning the embrace Kiichi was still holding him in.

Maybe he would have stayed like that forever, but just as he closed his eyes and was about to drift off again there was a buzz from the nightstand. He blinked, groaned and turned his head, only to find a phone lit up that definitely wasn’t his.

He grimaced. Kiichi’s phone. What was that doing here? Kiichi must have put it on the nightstand sometime during their countless rounds of Uno and forgotten it there.

Kimishita looked down at Kiichi, still sound asleep on top of him. He wouldn’t wake up and answer his phone anytime soon. Should Kimishita pick up for him? On one hand it was intruding on his privacy. On the other hand, if someone was calling because they were worried...

Sighing quietly, he reached out and picked up the phone. The caller ID read _Sis_.

“Hello?” he mumbled drowsily, holding the phone to his ear.

“Oh, good morning,” Kiichi’s sister said from the other end of the line. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was trying to reach Kiichi, he disappeared on us yesterday with a very cryptic text saying he’s staying over at a friend’s... I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

Kimishita stifled a yawn. “He’s with me. Don’t worry.”

“That’s a relief.” Kimishita could almost hear her smiling through the phone. “Still asleep, is he?”

“Like a log.”

She laughed. “That’s Kiichi for you. If you know a trick to wake him up before noon, do tell me.” She paused for a little, suddenly going serious. “By the way, Kimishita-kun...”

Kimishita jolted and blushed. “How did you...?!”

“I know your voice. Besides, you two have seemed close lately.” Kimishita blushed even redder, glad that she couldn’t see it through the phone. “Anyway, when Kiichi wakes up, tell him to hurry home. Our parents... aren’t happy about him leaving.”

_Figures,_ Kimishita thought. After their son had come home out of the blue, collapsed and slept for twenty-four hours straight, completely exhausted and likely with a fever or something similarly awful, no parents would be too happy to see him leave the house again mere hours after getting up without an explanation and stay over with a friend, only sending a text not even specifying which friend. In their place he would have been angry too.

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell him, senpai.”

“Thank you! I’ll try to calm down our parents in the meanwhile. Sorry for waking you up, but I’m glad Kiichi’s fine! I won’t bother you any longer, then.” There was a shuffling, as if she was walking somewhere or lowering her phone. “Goodbye!”

“Goodbye.”

Kimishita hung up, placing the phone back on the nightstand. Kiichi stirred above him, groaning and shifting and slowly raising his head, sleepy eyes blinking open as he took in his surroundings.

“Ah,” he muttered blearily, “I’m still dreaming...”

Kimishita poked a finger against his forehead. “You’re awake, moron.”

Kiichi blinked at him, then he lied back down, nuzzling Kimishita’s shoulder. “Sounds like something a dream would say,” he said quietly, hugging him close. “Five more minutes. I don’t wanna wake up and face reality yet.”

Kimishita wanted to snap at him, but he didn’t really have the heart. Kiichi’s drowsy, sleep-riddled self still couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream. He still thought the real Kimishita wouldn’t sleep in one bed with him, wrap his arms around his back or run his fingers through his hair. After everything that had happened between them, he couldn’t blame him.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against Kiichi’s again, hugging him back. “Alright, five more minutes,” he muttered quietly. “But not much longer.”

Kiichi groaned unwillingly. “Why not?”

“Because you’re heavy, you ass! And we can’t spend the whole day lying around here!” Kimishita gave Kiichi a nudge, poking his ribs. “Your sister just called. Told you to hurry home, your parents aren’t happy.”

“Shit.” Kiichi shifted against him. “If she says that, they must be pretty pissed... I’m staying here till they calm down.”

“Don’t do that! Are you an idiot?” Kimishita sighed, shaking his head. “They’ll just get even angrier!”

“Buuuut...”

“No buts! Besides, you have good news to tell them. Don’t you want to tell them about your pro contract offer?”

“Not till they calm down...”

“Well, maybe the good news _will_ calm them down. Consider that, idiot!”

Kiichi stirred and made a half-hearted attempt to get up, only to flop back down, knocking the air out of Kimishita’s chest. “Still wanna stay with you.”

Kimishita groaned under his weight. “And I’m telling you to get up!” he snapped. “Unlike some people in here, I still want to do something today!”

“Something more important than spending time with me?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. He really, really didn’t want to do this, but he knew he had to get it over with. It could convince Kiichi to let him go and face the wrath of his parents before it got worse. And most importantly, it would mean that he actually had to see this through before he had the chance to change his mind again.

“...If you hurry and get your ass home, I’m meeting up with Hayami-san.”

Kiichi sat up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Do I look like the type to break promises?” Kimishita avoided his eyes, scrambling out of bed before Kiichi could change his mind and flop down on top of him again. “So hurry up and get ready, I’m calling her when you go home after breakfast.”

Kiichi got up and stretched, quickly hitting his hands against the ceiling and grumbling a curse. Kimishita hurried to the bathroom before Kiichi could get there and hog it for an indefinite amount of time, washing his face and brushing his teeth while Kiichi’s sleepy footsteps padded through the apartment behind the door.

Kimishita smiled to himself. He’d miss this. Part of him was already looking forward to the day they moved in together for real.

Getting sentimental already, was he? Kiichi must be wearing off on him. Not that he minded. As long as he felt this happy and loved, he didn’t mind getting a little sentimental.

And besides, it was better than the creeping anxiousness at what he was about to do.

\---

They ate breakfast together in silence, taking their time. Kimishita drank his inevitable three cups of coffee in little slurps instead of gulping them down like he usually did. Kiichi munched on his toast so slowly that Kimishita had to ask him if he was even hungry at all. Neither of them was in a hurry to part ways, fully aware of the tasks that awaited them once they did.

But at long last they were still done, sitting at the table without saying a word, unwilling to get up. Kiichi played with the crumbs on his plate. Kimishita stared into his empty cup like it held the answer to all his questions. The only sound was the chirping of the crickets outside.

_I don’t want to do this._ Kimishita was sure they were both thinking the same thing. Kiichi didn’t look like he wanted to leave and go home, even if it was to tell his parents about the pro contract. And Kimishita definitely didn’t want to talk to Hayami-san. He knew he had to. But right now he regretted promising it.

“I’m... doing the dishes,” he declared at last, rising from his chair. No use sitting around here doing nothing. Better to get it over with quickly.

Kiichi got up, picking up his plate and cup. “I’m helping you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I wanna.”

Kimishita sighed, moving over to make room for Kiichi at the sink. “Try not to break any plates.”

Kiichi stuck out his tongue and started stacking the plates and cups in the sink, letting water in and adding soap. They did the dishes together, constantly bumping into each other and getting in each other’s way and yelling at each other over using the wrong amount of water or soap and almost starting a water fight, an odd sense of familiarity in every move and every insult. But there was still something else, something unusual that neither of them knew how to put into words. It was in the air between them, flickering up every time their hands accidentally brushed together, every time their faces got too close, making their hearts skip beats and their faces heat up. Was there a name for it? Kimishita wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that this was _different_ , unfamiliar, a sense of shakiness and excitement he had yet to understand.

Shaking off the thought, he dried off the last plate, letting the water out of the sink. Kiichi’s eyes lingered on him, almost thoughtful, watching his every move.

He clicked his tongue. “Want anything?”

“...not really.” Kiichi blushed and pouted, turning away. “Just...”

“Just what?”

“Nothing!”

“Fine.” Kimishita knew it was a lie, but he let it slide. No use to bug Kiichi if he didn’t want to tell. “If it’s nothing, get ready to leave. Let’s both get this over with.”

Kiichi looked like he wanted to say something, but then he nodded, following Kimishita through the apartment and down the stairs. At the store entrance he paused, hesitating.

Kimishita looked up at him, impatiently and questioningly. “What?”

Kiichi hesitated for a minute, then he leaned down, grabbed Kimishita’s collar, pulled him into a kiss, turned on his heel, and hurried out through the door.

Kimishita glare after him, covering his mouth with his hand and blushing. “What the hell was that for?” he called after Kiichi. “Don’t just do that and run off, you moron!”

Kiichi stopped in his tracks, turning around to glare back at Kimishita. His face was redder than a tomato. “First you tell me to leave and now you tell me to stay!” he complained, pouting. “Which is it, jerk-face?”

“I’m not telling you to stay, dumbass!” Kimishita yelled back. “I’m just telling you to stop doing stupid things out of the blue!”

“It’s not stupid! This is normal!” Kiichi crossed his arms. “We’re a, uh...” His face turned even redder. “W-We’re, we’re... shut up! W-We’re a couple now, right? C-Couples do that stuff!” He lowered his gaze, blushing all over. “Shut up.”

Kimishita was torn between blushing and laughing. Kiichi’s words were embarrassing, but he really looked cute right now, the way he stood there blushing from head to toe and pouting at the concrete, looking like an oversized and very grumpy tomato. “Of course they do, idiot,” he said, struggling to hide a grin. “We’re just not used to it is all. We still have time.”

With that he turned and walked back into the apartment, just as a very loud voice stopped him from behind.

“Kimishita!”

He turned back, annoyed. “What?”

“I love you!”

Kimishita blushed again, clicking his tongue in irritation. “I love you too!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “Hurry up and go home!”

Kiichi beamed and started waltzing down the street in a daze. Kimishita gazed after him, shaking his head. This idiot. This stupid, moronic, embarrassing gift of a wonderful human being. He was so glad to have him back. Just having Kiichi around made him feel more secure, like everything was so much easier than before. And now he had one less thing to worry about. No matter what happened and how his confrontation with Hayami-san ended, he wouldn’t have to fear getting separated from Kiichi. Sooner or later they’d stay together, one way or another. That only left Seiseki. And his father.

_Hayami-san._ He frowned, searching through his pockets until he pulled out the crumpled-up business card. It had suffered a bit, but the phone number was still readable, and Kimishita tapped it into his phone, digit by digit.

He didn’t have to let it ring long. A familiar voice answered after only a few seconds, sounding nervous and agitated. “Hello?”

“Hayami-san, this is Kimishita Atsushi.” He swallowed hard, pushing down his pride. _For Pops and Kiichi,_ he reminded himself. “I’d like to meet up with you.”

\---

Ooshiba walked down the street on clouds. A giant smile beamed all over his face, and if his ears hadn’t been in the way it would have gone all around his head in a circle. The sky above him was gray, but he didn’t care. It was windy and chilly, but he didn’t even notice. All that mattered were Kimishita’s words still ringing in his ears, too beautiful to be true yet very much real. Ooshiba grinned to himself. “He said he loved me...”

Smiling, he hopped onto the railing of a small bridge, balancing across it and pretending to be a tightrope walker. He jumped back off, humming a tune, sniffed the blossoming bush poking over a garden fence and inhaled a scent that only existed in his head, patted the head of a vicious-looking dog as he walked by and nearly got his hand bit off, grabbed a lamppost and spun around it a few times, and shook hands with a complete stranger on the street. He crossed two red lights, nearly walked into a glass door, knocked against a tree and almost fell down a manhole, but he didn’t notice at all. He was still on cloud nine.

“Kimishita loves me...”

Ooshiba waltzed on, lost in his own little world. He had completely forgotten how angry his parents were, that his problems still weren’t solved by a long way. All that mattered was that he loved Kimishita and Kimishita loved him back. They could take care of the rest.

“Hey, if this isn’t Kiichiman!”

Ooshiba paused, vaguely registering that he knew the voice, but unable to remember where. A second voice spoke up from the same direction, younger and equally familiar.

“Oh, you’re right! It’s Ooshiba-senpai...” The voice grew louder, calling out to him. “Ooshiba-senpai, good morning!”

Ooshiba turned around to find a well-known pair of second-years looking at him with curiosity. “Kazama, Tsukamoto!” he greeted them, still grinning, walking up to him and patting both their heads. “Good morning! Isn’t it a lovely day today?”

They looked at each other and then at him in confusion, but he ignored them. Those two wouldn’t comprehend how happy he was even if he told them, but he’d kindly forgive them. He wasn’t in the mood to get angry at people.

“U-Um...” Tsukamoto fidgeted nervously. “Ooshiba-senpai, is everything all right?”

Ooshiba’s grin widened even more. “Everything’s perfectly fine,” he chimed. “Couldn’t be better!”

“You sound like you had something in your drink, Kiichiman.” Kazama chuckled. “Or maybe you’re just drunk on lov _mmmph?!_ ” Tsukamoto covered his mouth before he could finish the word.

“I-I’m very sorry!” he stammered hastily, pushing his boyfriend along. “He must have spent too much time in the sun yesterday... Come on, Kazama-kun, let’s go! Have a nice day, Ooshiba-senpai!”

Ooshiba smiled and waved after them until they turned a corner. He continued walking, cheerfully making his way down the streets until he found himself on his doorstep and rang the bell, still smiling.

The door opened to reveal his mother, startled and very much ready to say something angry. Ooshiba tackled her with a hug. “Good morning, Mom!” he greeted her. “Sorry I’m late! Nice to see you!”

His mother struggled in his embrace, freeing herself from his arms, stunned and startled. “Kiichi! What–”

“Dad! Sis! Good morning!” He hugged his father and sister in one swoop, lifting Mikoto up in the air. Still smiling, he toed off his shoes and waltzed over into the kitchen to sit down in his chair, followed by his increasingly puzzled family.

“Kiichi, um...” Mikoto frowned, reaching out a hand to check if he had a fever. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great!” he said, still wearing that stupid grin. “And I’ve got good news for you.”

\---

Kimishita paced the café entrance like a nervous tiger, back and forth, forth and back again, restless. He didn’t want to be here. Every single one of his instincts was screaming at him to run. The only thing keeping him here was his promise and the nagging curiosity that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Where was Hayami-san? She was the one who had told him to wait here. Was she going to be late? He wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe she had changed her mind again and ditched him, just like back then. If she’d done it once, she could do it again.

What was he doing here? Why was he pacing this godforsaken overpriced place, waiting for a woman he hated with every inch of his being and who might not even show up? Why had he called her in the first place? People were staring at him. He didn’t fit in here. And he definitely didn’t want to be here.

“Atsushi!”

He looked up. Sure enough, there was Hayami-san, a little breathless but otherwise impeccable as always. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a neat, elegant style, curled tips straightened out to perfection, her makeup flawless. Even on her day off she was wearing designer heels and a purse that cost more than Kimishita’s entire wardrobe. He scowled inwardly. _Had a good life without us, did you?_

“Sorry for the wait,” she said quickly, striding towards him, her gaze all over the place. “But I’m... It’s a good thing you called. Shall we... go in?”

Kimishita nodded and wordlessly followed her inside. It was a pretty place, he had to give it that; it was elegant and flooded with light, the scents of coffee and freshly-baked cake lingering in the air, light and refreshing like everything in the room. For a brief moment Kimishita almost let himself relax a little. Almost.

Then Hayami-san led him to a table far away from everyone else, motioning for him to sit down, and he tensed. The urge to run away was stronger than ever. He didn’t want to sit at a cute little café with this woman and talk as if nothing had happened. That notion was disgusting. And he was disgusted with himself for agreeing to do this.

He glanced at the people around them and scowled. _Clever,_ he thought grimly. _Meet me at a public place so I can’t just yell at you and storm off when I get fed up with your bullshit. Really a smart move, Hayami Hanae._

Hayami-san sat down across from him, gaze flitting from side to side. “So,” she said quietly, “would you like anything? Coffee? Cake?”

_As if I’d ever accept anything from you._  “No thanks.”

There was an awkward silence. Hayami-san grew increasingly nervous, her eyes all over the place, her hands playing with her hair, then the tablecloth, then each other. She took a deep breath, as if she wanted to say something, then she exhaled again without a word. Fragments of conversation flooded over from the neighboring tables. The clinking of forks and plates and cups grew obnoxiously loud.

“Alright,” Hayami-san said with a sigh, still not meeting Kimishita’s gaze. “I... guess it’s time for an explanation.”

She raised her eyes, looking straight into his for the first time since they had walked inside. “Just to be clear,” she said in a steadier voice, “this isn’t me asking for forgiveness. I don’t want you to suddenly forget everything that happened and start treating me as your mother, because I don’t deserve that title. But I do hope you’ll understand.”

Kimishita narrowed his eyes. “Understand what?”

“A lot of things.” She sighed, propping her head up on her hands. “How much did Sei... did your father tell you about him and me?”

Kimishita frowned. “Not much. Almost nothing.”

“That’s just like him. Trying to carry the feelings by himself again, was he?” She cracked a sad smile. “Very well then, I’ll tell you everything.”

Hayami-san closed her eyes, the slightest hint of nostalgia crossing her features, and for the first time Kimishita felt something akin to sympathy for her, just for the hint of a moment. “Your father and I met in middle school,” she said slowly. “We didn’t go to the same school, but our schools were close by and every so often we’d run into each other on the way.” She chuckled. “At first we didn’t get along. He’d often try to impress random girls and make a fool of himself and I made fun of him and we picked fights all the time, but... after some time he started walking together with me and we... became friends. Then we went to the same high school. Which is when we became a couple.”

Kimishita swallowed. That story... Why was she telling him this? And why did it all seem so familiar?

“We were happy together,” she continued. “Even though we came from different backgrounds... no, because of that. My family was wealthy and strict, and they always pressured me to be the perfect daughter with perfect grades and a perfect future. If I didn’t deliver, they didn’t treat me like their child at all.” She clenched her fists, decade-old anger rising in her face. “But your father loved me for who I was, and he offered me everything I wanted so badly. Family, a place to come home to and feel welcome. A simple life without stressing over grades and careers. I couldn’t resist all that. After we graduated from high school I cut all ties with my parents and married him. And then... you were born.”

Kimishita frowned. Hayami-san didn’t look like she had any regrets about her choices back then. The only emotion on her face was nostalgia, a longing for the happy times that had gone by so many years ago. _She doesn’t regret marrying Pops,_ he realized, the thought jolting through him like electricity. _She... really does love him._

“For some time we were a happy family,” Hayami-san continued, and now regret crept into her voice, drew into her expression until she looked almost bitter. “But... I was young. I wasn’t ready to stay at home and be a mother yet. I wanted to study and work and see the world.”

Kimishita’s frown deepened. He could see where this was going. “So you left us to do that?” he asked coldly. “Then why–”

“I didn’t,” she cut him off, almost impatiently. “I enrolled at a college and started studying when you were a year and a half. I thought I could be a mother and a college student at the same time. That... was my mistake.”

She took a deep breath, gathering herself before she continued speaking. “I tried to be a perfect mother and a perfect student. All by myself. Your father offered to help me, but I declined. I tried to do it all alone and wore myself out completely.”

_Sounds like me._ The thought crossed Kimishita’s mind before he could stop it. No, no, what was he thinking? He wasn’t like that. He had nothing in common with this woman!

“I didn’t rest anymore. I barely got any sleep. I grew more and more exhausted... more and more stressed. Your father kept offering his help. I never accepted it. My grades slipped. I couldn’t take good care of you anymore. I tried to do both alone and couldn’t do either.” Hayami-san’s fingers gripped the tablecloth, clenching until her knuckles went white. “We started fighting... over the smallest things, over everything. Our relationship wasn’t working out anymore. And you were suffering from it too. We thought... it was better for us to break it off and leave you with your father, give me some space and time to recollect myself. Start again when I was ready.”

She sighed, hanging her head. “I was stupid,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was so stupid.”

Kimishita looked at her, unsure what to think. Part of him was angry, furious even. Yes, she had been stupid. She had been irrational and naïve, and he and his father had suffered from it. If she had thought things through or even just tried to be less selfish, none of this would have happened.

But another part of him couldn’t really be mad. Not when she was sitting in front of him like this, full of shame and regret and anger at herself, looking so young and fragile, almost like a schoolgirl. There was no point in being angry at her for leaving when the one who was the angriest about it all was herself. She knew what she had done wrong. He didn’t have to tell her.

No, there was no point in being angry at her for leaving home. But there were other things he didn’t understand... other things that angered him.

“Then why did you disappear completely?” he asked, his tone accusatory. “You could have come back. You never even called!”

“I didn’t have the courage!” she burst out, leaping to her feet. “I thought you hated me!”

“That’s all? You could at least have tried to make sure!”

“I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t bear the pain!” She looked straight into his eyes, her green gaze bright with emotion, her voice shaking, bitter and angry. “Cutting you off hurt less than knowing that you hated me, don’t you understand? Have you never distanced yourself from someone you loved because you were so afraid of losing them?”

Kimishita jolted. Kiichi’s face flickered through his mind. “I...”

“I know I messed up,” she said quietly, sitting back down. “I made every mistake I could possibly make, and as badly as possible.” She bowed her head. “Please don’t forgive me.”

Kimishita’s eyes widened. Something deep inside him responded to her words. She wasn’t asking for forgiveness. She wasn’t here to make peace. She had only come here to help his father.

She was serious about this.

“Don’t forgive me,” Hayami-san said quietly, fixing his gaze, “but accept my help. This is all because of me. I made a lot of mistakes and this is the least I can do to atone for them all. I know it’s not enough by a long way, but it’s better than doing nothing. For you too.”

Kimishita averted his gaze. He didn’t want to. He knew it was probably the right thing to do. But he didn’t want to... not from her!

“Why should I allow you to atone after everything you did?” he snapped. “Don’t be selfish!”

“I know I’m selfish!”

He looked up. Hayami-san was glaring at him, determined and angry. “But let me be selfish, for your father’s sake! The store is his dream, you of all people should know that! Do you really want him to give it up just because you don’t want me to make up for my mistakes? Who’s the selfish one here, huh?”

Kimishita swallowed. _Pops..._ She had hit a sore spot there. Of course he wanted his father to be able to walk again. Of course he wanted him to continue living his dream. But... _but...!_

“And you!” she continued. “Are you really going to make the same mistake as me? If you’re offered help, don’t be an idiot and accept it! Would you rather end up in a place where you regret everything just because you were too proud to let people help you? You’ve got your team here, right? You’ve got a friend who’d go to the ends of the earth for you! Do you want to leave all that behind just because you’re still angry at me? Don’t do the same thing as your own mother, idiot!”

_She’s just like me._

Kimishita couldn’t deny that anymore. It was the truth. He and Hayami Hanae were so much alike, too similar to ignore. As much as he resented her, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He wouldn’t forgive this woman. He would never see her as part of his family, let alone his mother. But... he understood her. He understood why she had done the things she had, how she felt right now. Her past was made of mistakes, but in her situation he might easily have done the same thing.

And she had a point. A point he couldn’t ignore.

_Just this once. This doesn’t mean I accept you._

“Fine,” he growled, rising from his chair and bowing. “I’ll take your help, this once. Please help my father, Hanae-san!”


	23. Team

Kimishita leaned against the wall, pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Kiichi. _Back home. Just met with “mother.” How are things on your end?_

Closing his eyes, he let himself slump to the ground, sitting down on the floor as he waited for Kiichi to respond. His head was still reeling. There was so much he had learned today, so much he had understood. He felt like he could never see the world the same way ever again.

Hanae-san... Should he really have agreed to let her help? She had seemed sincere, and her story had rung true. But even if he felt like he finally understood her, his pride was still bristling. He didn’t like asking someone he hated for help. And this... this was a level of hatred he had for no one else in the world, a resentment engraved too deep into the depths of his consciousness to disappear just because he knew her story. Had he really done the right thing?

Her face full of regret appeared in his mind, and he sighed. He didn’t want to end up like her, lonely and frustrated and ridden with disappointment and guilt. No matter what else happened, he didn’t want to follow her footsteps. Even if it meant asking the person he hated most for help.

And most of all, the relief he felt right now was so worth it.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Kimishita blinked and looked down at the screen to find a message from Kiichi popping up, obviously typed in a hurry. _b threr in 5!_

Kimishita had half a mind to text back and correct the typo, just to mess with him, but he didn’t. If he really was as hurried as the text made it seem, Kiichi wouldn’t read it before he got here anyway. _Five minutes, huh._

He closed his eyes and waited. It didn’t take long for a familiar set of footsteps to come storming up the street, and a second later the door flew open, a shadow falling over Kimishita’s face. He looked up to find Kiichi standing in front of him, out of breath and agitated.

“What’s it with you and running in here like a maniac?” he said, shaking his head. “This is turning into a habit.”

Kiichi ignored the remark, hurrying over to grab him by the collar, pulling him to his feet. “How’d it go?” he asked impatiently. “The meeting.”

Kimishita scowled at him, but deep down he felt almost amused. “First of all,” he deadpanned, “I’m not telling anything till you put me down.”

Kiichi let go of him in an instant. Kimishita sighed, leaning back against the wall, hands in his pockets. “That’s better.”

“So?” Kiichi asked, almost stumbling over his words. “How was it?”

Kimishita took a deep breath. “She’s helping us.”

Kiichi stared at him with bright sparkling eyes. Then he started grinning, beaming from ear to ear until he outshone the sun behind the window. “So that means...” His hands grasped Kimishita’s with barely-contained joy. “That means you can stay, right?”

“If everything goes well.” Kimishita pulled his hands away. “That’s still a pretty big ‘if.’”

“Smaller than before,” Kiichi shot back with a pout. “Let me be happy, asshat!”

“Fine, idiot. Be happy all you want. But don’t complain if it doesn’t all go as planned.” Kimishita scoffed, throwing an affectionate nudge to Kiichi’s ribs. “How about that pro contract of yours, by the way?”

Kiichi grinned smugly. “All set.”

Kimishita felt half skeptical, as if it had gone over a little too fast and too smoothly, but Kiichi’s face left no doubts. This wasn’t a grin of someone who was lying to him. This was the grin of someone who was irritatingly pleased with himself because everything had gone perfectly in his favor. And for once Kimishita was happy to see it.

Kiichi leaned against the wall next to him, still smiling. “So that means we can stay together one way or another, right?”

“Don’t be rash.” Kimishita cocked an eyebrow at him. “Seiseki can’t lose both its captain and vice-captain at the same time. If I leave, you’re staying.”

Kiichi pouted. “You’re not leaving.”

“Hopefully.” Closing his eyes, Kimishita gave a small smile, inching the tiniest bit closer to Kiichi. “Most likely.”

“Shouldn’t you tell the team or something? Just in case?”

Kimishita’s eyes blinked open. Turning, he glared up at Kiichi, who looked at him like he had just said the most normal thing in the world. “Huh?” he growled, trying not to show his panic at the thought. “What the hell are you talking about, stupid?”

“They should know,” Kiichi insisted, getting all up in his personal space. “They’re your friends! They deserve to know what’s going on in your life!”

“What’s going on in my life is nobody’s business! They’d just pity me and try to help and be a pain in the ass!”

Kiichi huffed in frustration. “You almost had to move ‘cause of that attitude! Are you ever gonna learn? Use your head, your head!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue at the cheap imitation of his own line. He wanted to talk back, but Kiichi had a point. If it hadn’t been for Kiichi finding out, he would still be all alone with the fear of losing everyone... no, he would most likely have collapsed with exhaustion. He would never have found out the story of his mother, and he would never have known the feeling of Kiichi’s arms around him, Kiichi’s lips against his, the joy of waking up heart to heart with the one he loved. He would quietly have moved away and never seen any of his old teammates again.

If he told the team... it would be awkward. It would be embarrassing. But beyond that, what did he have to lose? It wasn’t like he needed help anymore. It wasn’t like they would all turn up on his doorstep trying to look after him the way Kiichi had.

“Fine,” he said impatiently. “I guess I’ll talk to them if you insist. But I’m blaming you for anything stupid they do in response.”

Kiichi smiled the smile of a winner. For a short moment Kimishita had to resist the urge to slap it off his face. Then his annoyance melted, and he smirked back. Damn it, upon closer inspection that smile was pretty cute. Even if it made Kiichi look like a complete idiot.

No, _because_. Kiichi’s smile was cute _because_ it made him look stupid. That single-minded, reckless, weird, adorable stupidity was what had made Kimishita fall for him in the first place. He sighed. _Damn, I have a type._

Kiichi looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in and crushing him against his side. “So what did you mom tell ya?” he asked, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Spill!”

Adjusting himself against Kiichi’s side, Kimishita leaned his head on his shoulder and cracked a smile. “You’ll be surprised.”

\---

“So,” Kimishita concluded, glaring at no one in particular, “that’s the story. Thought you might deserve to know, just in case.”

Dozens of eyes rested on him, wide and stunned. Kimishita shifted uncomfortably. He hated telling people about his problems, and it was hard enough to confide in one person alone. Telling a whole team about such a personal matter, and a team as large as Seiseki as that, was a whole new level of embarrassing.

Still, he had told them. He had told them about his father’s condition and that they’d have to move away if he didn’t recover, and some vague details about the upcoming surgery and when to expect results. He hadn’t mentioned his mother or his relationship with Kiichi. All he had said was that the costs of the surgery were provided for.

After he finished there was a long silence. Nobody said a word. Nobody even breathed. It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

Kimishita stared down at his feet, his face flushing. Damn it, this was so awkward. This was embarrassing. Why had he let Kiichi convince him to do this? He could almost feel everyone’s compassion, their shock, their _pity_. Disgusting.

_Somebody say something already. End this awkward silence, I’m begging you._

Looking up, he glared at his teammates, almost mocking. “What,” he snapped, “cat got your tongue?”

Tsukamoto returned his gaze with big round teary eyes, and if Kimishita didn’t have a soft spot for the poor kid he would probably have punched him for that look. “Kimishita-senpai, um...” He fumbled nervously. “D-Does that mean you’ve been living by yourself ever since the accident?”

Kimishita threw a glance at Kiichi, who gave him a knowing smirk. “Not really.”

“Don’t lie!” Satou burst out, pushing past a few first-years to get to the front. “We’ve all seen how stressed you look!”

Suzuki followed him with a sigh. “You’ve been doing everything by yourself, right? School, soccer, housework, the store...”

Kimishita scowled at their annoyingly motherly looks. “Not everything!” he snapped, irritated with their prying. “I had help.”

“But it must have been lonely.” Tsukamoto still looked sad. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Kimishita-senpai? It must have been horrible to go through all that by yourself!”

“I wasn’t exactly–”

“Captain, you could’ve told us!” Kurusu joined in. “We’re your team!”

Nitobe nodded. “We would have kept the secret, Captain!”

“As I was saying–”

“Relax, guys.” With a suspiciously wide grin Kazama pulled his teammates away from Kimishita, giving him a knowing wink. “He wasn’t all alone in this, right, Kimishita-kun?”

Kimishita scowled at him. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Ah, nothing much.” Kazama’s smile widened, a feat Kimishita would have deemed impossible. “You and Kiichiman have seemed pretty close lately though, just saying. And how come he’s not flipping out over your story?” He motioned to Kiichi, who was watching the whole scene with a satisfied smile.

Kimishita jolted, feeling caught. “He’s the vice-captain so I told him before,” he grumbled, blushing and glaring at Kiichi in the hopes that he might notice and start acting less suspicious. “But only after the idiot started nagging me.”

Kazama laughed and turned away. Kimishita sighed, watching as the team calmed down again, even though he could still feel their eyes on him, surprised and worried. They still wanted to ask him a ton of questions, he realized. Of course they did. His explanation had been rather vague, and they were worried. Well, at least they had the common sense to keep their mouths shut and not swarm him with questions for the time being.

“See?” Kiichi stepped up to stand beside him, looking awfully smug. “Told ya so.”

Kimishita scoffed. “Told me what? That they’d make a giant ruckus out of this?”

“Of course not! Told ya it’d be no big deal, _dumbass_.” Kiichi imitated his voice, earning himself a knock to the ribs. “Or was it really that bad?”

Kimishita glanced at Kiichi, then at the pity-filled eyes of their teammates, then back at Kiichi. “Bad enough.”

“They care about you! Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’d rather they keep their caring to themselves. This is pointless.”

“Proud asshole.” Kiichi pouted. “You really gotta learn to rely on people sometimes.”

Kimishita just grimaced. Intellectually he knew that Kiichi had a point; he couldn’t go on trying to shoulder everything alone forever. Some things were just too big for him to carry by himself; he of all people should know that. But did that really mean he had to tell people about his personal business? Even if they were his teammates, it didn’t really concern them, did it?

After all, it would only cause trouble for everyone involved.

Behind his back Tsukamoto got up on his tip-toes, whispering something in Kazama’s ear. Kazama’s eyes went round as he smiled. “Sounds like a plan, Tsukushi!”

\---

Kimishita adjusted his glasses, closing his math textbook and moving on to physics. The store was quiet today. Only one customer had come in so far, and Kimishita had used his time to do his homework and catch up on studying. He hadn’t been this productive in a week, no people or noises or messy feelings to disturb him, just quiet and peace. Kiichi was sitting a few feet away, but he too was silent; he had rather obviously hidden a manga inside a textbook he didn’t realize he was holding upside down. Kimishita let him. His future was already provided for, anyway.

Smiling at the silence, Kimishita looked down at his textbook, eyes scanning over the problem at hand as he scribbled down all the relevant information. Truly a wonderful, productive afternoon. If only he got those more–

As if on cue, the door swooshed open.

–often. Kimishita sighed. _So much for not being disturbed._

“Welcome,” he started to say, but the word got stuck in his throat. Walking into the store, one after another, were his teammates.

Kimishita opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No sound came out. He just gaped at the dozen or so people lining up in front of him like it was the most normal thing possible, unsure if he should be surprised or angry.

“What the fuck,” he said finally.

Kiichi looked up from his manga, his eyes going round as he looked at the merry gathering. “What’s happening?” he asked, looking back and forth between them and Kimishita. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?”

They all looked at each other, then Kazama stepped forward, looking irritatingly casual for the absurdity of the situation. “Question is, why are _you_ here, Kiichiman?” he remarked with a knowing wink, coloring both Kimishita and Ooshiba bright red in an instant. “’Cause I know we all got a good reason to be here.”

Kimishita scowled at him over the frame of his glasses. “What’s that wink for, huh? Can’t see anything wink-worthy in friends spending time together.”

“Ooh, did somebody record that? He said they were friends!” Kazama turned back to his team, only to get hit by the eraser Kimishita flung at his head. “Okay, okay, just kidding,” he said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his head as he turned around again. “Ow, that hurt.”

“Why are you here?” Kimishita snapped impatiently. “You have five seconds to tell me before I kick you out.”

Kazama smiled and pointed to their teammates with a grand gesture, encompassing the entire group as he spread out his arms. “We’re here to help you out, Captain.”

Kimishita rubbed his temples. What the hell. He knew he shouldn’t have told these idiots; there was no way they could have let go of the issue with just a quick discussion. Of course they’d all intrude on his privacy.

Glaring, he clicked his tongue. “Whose bright idea was that?”

“Uh, mine!” Tsukamoto straightened his back, then he bowed low. “I’m very sorry if we’re inconveniencing you, Kimishita-senpai, but after I heard that you were all alone without your father I couldn’t stop feeling like you were lonely and probably needed a hand... I-If I was imagining things, I’m sorry! But if you don’t mind, would you let us help you a little?”

Kimishita sighed in resignation. “Get up,” he told Tsukamoto, impatiently but without any real anger. He was irritated, yes, but most of all he was puzzled, confused beyond measure. “What’s everyone else doing here? You think I need a dozen people to help me mind the store?”

“N-No!” Tsukamoto seemed almost distraught by his question. “I only asked for a few people to join, but everyone wanted to come! The whole team was worried about you, Kimishita-senpai!”

Kimishita blinked at them. His gaze roamed over his teammates lined up in front of him, scanning over every single one of them, one after another. Doubt mixed with confusion and embarrassment and a bright, hopeful spark of gratitude. Damn it, what was he getting all happy about? These idiots were getting all up in his personal space and acting like the world’s biggest hassle, and yet he couldn’t help feeling happy. His team... his friends...

“That true?” he asked them all, and they nodded unanimously. Kimishita shook his head. The hint of a smile made its way on his face, cracking his mask of anger. These incorrigible idiots. They were still annoying, but he couldn’t really be angry at them when his chest felt warm and fluffy inside, when they all gave him this stupid mushy feeling of being welcome and loved.

Fine, he supposed he could let them help. Just a little. After all, if he was in their stead he would probably have done the same thing; while grumbling and complaining, granted, but he would have done it anyway. He just hoped they wouldn’t wreak any havoc while they were at it.

“Alright,” he said with a click of his tongue, “fine. We’ve got some new arrivals that still have to be put on display. Take care of those if you insist.”

Smiling, they all hurried towards the storeroom, waiting for Kimishita to catch up to them and unlock the door, letting them in. “Don’t you dare break anything!” he called after them as they crowded past him, hurrying back into the store with their arms full of equipment. “You break something, you pay for it! And don’t expect a discount!”

They didn’t even seem to hear him as they swarmed out, comparing the items in their hands with the ones on display to see where they could put them. Kimishita stared after them with a gloomy scowl. Seeing them like that, he was starting to wonder if letting them handle the precious equipment really was such a good idea.

“Hey,” he said again, following after them, “don’t break anyth–”

He stepped into the first aisle and his heart nearly stopped. The first sight he was met with was Satou, balancing a gigantic stack of shoe boxes on his hands that threatened to fall down on him at any minute. “Guys,” he said from behind the increasingly wobbly construction, “would anybody mind lending me a hand...?”

Peeking over from the next aisle, Mutsumi reached out and extended one of the mannequin hands that were usually used to put gloves on display. Suzuki turned around from where he’d been trying to find a suitable spot for the mountain of boxes and laughed. Satou pulled an impatient grimace. “Not like this!” he burst out. “Has the pun bug caught you too, Mucchan?”

“Sorry, sorry. Be right there!” Putting the hand back down, Mutsumi hurried along the aisle to get to them. The stack of boxes wobbled dangerously. They slipped against each other and started sliding, threatening to fall.

“Watch out!” Kimishita shouted and leaped forward, catching the boxes a split second before they could come crashing down. Whispering a curse, he set them down on the ground before giving Satou, Suzuki and the newly arrived Mutsumi a murderous glare. “The fuck was that stunt just now, huh? You think customers want to buy anything that’s in a beat-up box? Be this careless again and I’ll kill you!”

They shifted awkwardly and nodded. Kimishita sighed, just about to start helping them sort in the boxes when his eyes came to rest on another picture.

“Kazama,” he growled, storming across the shop. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kazama paused, turning around to face him, his expression unfazed. He was wearing a volleyball jersey, a two-sizes-too-big bright pink girls’ one at that, and had stuffed a pair of soccer balls into the front to imitate large breasts. “Oh hi, Kimishita-kun,” he said casually. “How do I look?”

“Like an utter disappointment,” Kimishita shot back, face twitching. “ _You..._ Take that shit off right now! Put it back! You’re stretching the fabric, you moron!”

“Alright, alright.” Kazama pouted but did as he was told, pulling out the soccer balls and taking off the jersey, only to stand in the middle of the store shirtless. “You’re no fun, Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita glared at him, cracking his knuckles. “What was that? You making fun of other people’s livelihood, you insolent brat?”

Tsukamoto hurried between them, panicking and flailing his hands around. But before either of them could say anything, there was a yelp and a suspiciously loud thud, and Kimishita spun on his heel.

“What was that?” he asked, hurrying in the direction of the thud. “You better not have broken anything or else–”

He stepped around a corner and froze in his tracks.

The picture that opened itself in front of his eyes truly was something else. Hino lay flat on the ground, rubbing the back of his head and groaning. A quick-thinking Nakijin was kneeling a few steps away, clutching an expensive brand helmet as if he had just caught it from a height. And...

“Senpai! Help!”

Kimishita looked up and barely believed his own eyes. The distressed wail had come from Komiya, the very same Komiya who was currently dangling from the ceiling fan, holding on for dear life while trying not to make it spin around. “Please help me!”

Kimishita’s face twitched. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. “I leave you alone for five minutes...” he growled, glowering at everyone involved. “What. The fuck. Did you. Do?”

Komiya yelped and nearly fell off the fan. “I’m very sorry!” he sputtered, catching himself at the last minute. “I tried to put that helmet on the top shelf but I couldn’t reach it and...”

“...and I let him sit on my shoulders to reach it,” Hino continued, scrambling up to his feet. “But we lost our balance, and, well...”

“...and you fell down while Komiya held on to the fucking fan,” Kimishita concluded. “Which is about to fall off the ceiling right now.”

They shrank back and nodded awkwardly. Kimishita face-palmed.

“...fine,” he grumbled, forcing down the rage boiling up inside him, along with a massive headache. “First of all, let’s get you back down.”

Cursing himself and everything that had led up to this mess, Kimishita stomped over, reached up and picked Komiya up in his hands, gently placing him down on the floor. His head was throbbing. Damn it, this was ridiculous. This was utter nonsense. What were all these idiots doing here? If he hadn’t been here running from aisle to aisle doing damage control, they would have trashed the store already. Why had they come here? Why had they talked about helping when they didn’t even take this job seriously? And they were surprised why he never let anyone help!

“U-Uh, Captain?” Komiya asked timidly, shrinking back in anticipation of the blowup he was bound to receive. “I’m... We’re very sorry! We should have been more careful...” His voice trailed off.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Leave.”

He blinked. “Eh?”

“I said leave!” Kimishita shouted, his voice booming through the entire store, exploding with rage. “Get out! All of you! I’m giving you ten seconds to get your asses out of this store right now!”

They shrank back. The first-years swallowed and stumbled towards the door. The third-years gave him confused looks; the second-years sulked, visibly disappointed. Kimishita didn’t care. He’d had it with all of them and their so-called help. _Get out,_ he thought.  _Get out already! Get out before I commit homicide!_

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped in their tracks. Kimishita raised his eyes. Standing in the doorframe was none other than Ubukata, hands planted on her hips, a large bag standing to either side of her.

“Yikes,” Kazama said with a mock grimace. “Hey, which one of you guys invited the Dragon Lady along?”

“Your darling boyfriend did,” Ubukata replied without batting an eye. “Who wouldn’t even be your boyfriend without this Dragon Lady’s help and who’s now getting your share of ice cream.”

“Whoa, unfair!” Kazama pouted. “You and your Tsukushi favoritism, Chikako.”

“Look who’s talking! And call me by my first name again and you’re dead!”

Ubukata shook her head at him and took a look around, taking in the whole scene in all its details. “So,” she asked again, “what’s going on?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I was sending them home.”

“Tell me that earlier, Captain.” Ubukata sighed. “And here I went and bought ice cream for everyone...”

Kimishita blinked in surprise. His teammates stared at Ubukata and then him with sparkling eyes, excited and expectant. He looked at the manager, then at the large bags next to her. Sighed.

“Alright,” he declared impatiently. “Let’s eat that ice cream before it melts and goes to waste. But you’re leaving as soon as you’re done, got that?”

Without even paying attention to his last remark, his teammates stormed forward, crowding around Ubukata until she hit them and told them to line up. Kimishita hesitated, then he joined the line. Kiichi followed behind, resting his chin on top of Kimishita’s head.

Kimishita glared at him as best as he could in their current position. “You could’ve helped too, you ass.”

“I did,” Kiichi shot back, pouting. “I was at the back helping the first-years reach the high shelves, okay?”

“You weren’t there for Hino and Komiya’s stunt.”

“How’s that my fault? They were in a whole different place!”

Kimishita scowled. “You–”

“Captain!”

He blinked, shaking off Kiichi as he stumbled to meet Ubukata, blushing. “What?”

She shoved two different-colored popsicles in his direction. “Ice cream.”

Kimishita mumbled a thanks and reached for the strawberry one, unwrapping it and taking a large bite, relishing the cool taste of fake strawberries spreading in his mouth. He closed his eyes. The fruity sweetness of the popsicle calmed down his nerves, soothing his headache as his whole body relaxed. Maybe he had been a little too angry just now. No real damage had been done, after all. And most of the time his teammates had meant well in their antics.

“Kimishita-senpai?”

He opened his eyes. Tsukamoto was standing next to him, flanked by everyone else, all eyes resting on him with worry and confusion. “Just now, did we, um... do something wrong?”

Kimishita took another bite, crunched it down and swallowed. “You weren’t taking it seriously,” he said, more calmly than he would have thought possible a few minutes ago. “Your fooling around didn’t help me one bit, it just gave me more trouble. What kind of help is that, huh?”

His teammates looked at him, then at each other, embarrassed and guilty.

Komiya was the first one to bow. “I’m sorry,” he declared. “I won’t climb on anyone’s shoulders anymore.”

Hino joined him. “And I won’t tell anybody to climb on my shoulders anymore.”

Kazama fumbled and gave a stupid grin before slightly bowing too. “And I... won’t try on any more stuff without asking, I guess?”

Satou nodded and lowered his head. “And I won’t stack the boxes that high.”

“We’ll be more careful now, Kimishita-senpai!”

“Sorry, Captain! We didn’t mean to cause trouble!”

“We won’t do it again!”

“Please tell us how to do this right!”

“Give us another chance!”

Kimishita stared at the crowd of bowed heads around him and sighed. They really were serious about helping. They were genuinely sorry. They had meant well... and they still did. With a few instructions they might actually become helpful.

Damn his weakness against well-meaning, genuine requests. It was probably going to get him killed someday. But he couldn’t say no.

“Straighten up,” he grumbled, not looking at anyone of them. “One more chance. Fuck that up and you’re banned from this place for good!”

They straightened their backs, beaming at him with open gratitude. Kimishita blushed and squirmed uncomfortably. “Shut up and finish your ice cream first,” he snapped. “Get that on anything and I’ll kill you!”

Everyone finished munching up their popsicles. Kiichi slurped down the last remains of his ice cream and held the stick between his teeth, snaking his arms around Kimishita’s waist and hugging him from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. “Hey.”

Kimishita stiffened, feeling everyone’s eyes on them. “What are you doing, you moron? We’re not alone here!”

“Ate my ice cream too fast.” Kiichi pulled him closer. “Now I’m cold.”

“Your own fault, idiot! If you’re cold then go move!”

Kiichi shamelessly snuggled up to him, unfazed. “You’re warmer.”

“And you’re two seconds away from a quick and painless death.”

“Asshole! Don’t be so rude to your boyfr _mmmph!_ ” Kimishita clamped a hand over his mouth just in time, blushing hard and nearly knocking the popsicle stick out from between his teeth.

“One more word and I’ll shove that popsicle stick down your throat!” he hissed. “You want everyone to know or what?”

“Heh.” Kazama cuddled up to Tsukamoto from behind, grinning over his shoulder. “Who’d have guessed Kiichiman was the touchy-feely type.”

Ubukata gave him a pointed look. “Pot, kettle, much?”

Kimishita gave them both a glare that would have ended them on the spot if looks could kill, and they all hurried to finish their ice cream and get back to work.

“We’re ready!” Kurusu called from the back of the store. “What should we do, Kimishita-senpai?”

So Kimishita told them.

\---

He almost couldn’t believe it, but they did work. They worked like a charm, stacking and shelving everything as he directed, growing quicker and more efficient the more time passed. Kimishita almost enjoyed watching them. They seemed to be having fun doing the job, and the store was starting to look better than it had for weeks. Nakijin and Nitobe cleaned the shop where it had gathered dust, the first-years changed the price tags on display, and Kazama and Tsukamoto charmed in several customers, who all promised to come back again soon. Kimishita hid a smile. Maybe letting these idiots help out hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all.

He took a look at the clock and almost jumped. This late already? It was closing time, and he had no idea where all these hours had gone. Time had flown by in what felt like mere minutes. And... he wasn’t tired at all.

He had spent the whole afternoon with more people than he liked to see in a week, but he didn’t feel a trace of social exhaustion.

“Everyone, that’s enough for today,” he called loudly, watching as they all gathered in front of him, lining up as if they were still at soccer practice. He ventured a smile. “Good work today.” A blush crept over his face, and he lowered his head in embarrassment. “Thanks... I guess.”

Kimishita didn’t know what happened next. All he knew was that the next time he blinked, he found himself tackled and knocked to the ground, a whole pile of teammates crashing down on top of him.

“Wha–?!” he burst out, struggling to free himself and failing. “Cut that, you idiots! What are you doing?”

Mutsumi reached out and ruffled his hair. “Dude, we’re just happy we could help!”

“You look so much happier now, Kimishita-senpai,” Tsukamoto added, tightening the hug. “We’re happy to see you happy!”

Kurusu nodded. “We’re you’re friends, you know?”

Kimishita stared at them incredulously. But all he was met with were smiling faces, looks of pure happiness and compassion and affection.

His friends.

Impossible, incorrigible, irreplaceable idiots.

A grin made his way on Kimishita’s face. Reaching up, he returned the hug as best as he could, barely grasping two or three at a time. Then he started laughing.

Kiichi had been right. They were good people. And every once in a while, they were definitely worth relying on.

\---

It was late in the evening when Kimishita finally looked at his phone. He hadn’t expected to have any new messages... but there was one. From none other than his father.

_We have a date for the surgery now!_


	24. Inseparable

_They set a date._

Ooshiba didn’t have to think twice about this message. He instantly knew what it was about. He knew who _they_ were, what kind of date Kimishita was referring to. It was a no-brainer.

 _WHEN?_ he texted back at lightning speed, his fingers nearly stumbling over the phone screen. The message took forever to send. Ooshiba cursed, holding his phone in the air to try and catch a better connection. “Phone, don’t fail me now,” he muttered, standing up on his bed and nearly losing his balance as his feet sank into the soft mattress. “This is important, you stupid connection!”

The message sent. The sign of Kimishita typing appeared on the screen. Ooshiba waited.

Impatiently.

Damn it, just how long was this asshole taking to write a short message telling him when the damn surgery was? He had been here waiting and staring at the screen for... thirty seconds? No way. It had felt like minutes!

Was the connection still bad, maybe? Had Kimishita already sent it and it hadn’t reached him yet? What was taking him so long, he wanted to know–

A message flashed up on the screen. Short and to the point as always.

_On the 21st. 1100._

Ooshiba cracked a slight smile. Typical Kimishita. He sounded as if he was telling him about a business appointment, not about the surgery that would determine the fate of his father and his own future for who knew how long, maybe the rest of their lives. Anybody who read this and didn’t know better might think that Kimishita didn’t care. But Ooshiba did know better. He knew how worried Kimishita had to be, how agitated he must be feeling right now. At least as worried and agitated as he himself was feeling.

Without a second thought, he sat down on his bed and and tapped the call button, holding the phone to his ear. He let it ring once, then a second time. Before it could ring a third time there was a click in the line, and then Kimishita’s voice resounded from the speaker, quiet and a little tense. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Ooshiba replied in the same tone. “It’s me.”

“It’s almost like I saw that from the caller ID,” Kimishita snarked, clicking his tongue. “What are you calling me for, moron? It’s late. Shouldn’t you go to sleep?”

Ooshiba stretched himself out on the bed. “That’s my line, jerk. You’re not trying to pull an all-nighter again, right?”

“As if! I don’t need much sleep is all.” There was a rustle on the other end of the line, as if Kimishita had sat down somewhere. “So? What did you call me for?”

Ooshiba gazed up at the ceiling, deep in thought. What _had_ he called Kimishita for, exactly? He wasn’t sure; it had just been an impulse, a sudden feeling in his gut telling him to call, that Kimishita probably needed it. Was it out of worry? Had he wanted to calm him down? Or had he just called him to calm down himself?

“Dunno,” he mumbled. “Because.”

“Because what?”

“Just because!” He huffed and pouted. “I just wanted to. It felt like the right thing.”

Kimishita chuckled. “Impulsive as always.”

Ooshiba wanted to snap an annoyed response, but Kimishita’s low chuckle reverberated in his ears, pounding through his heart and doing inexplicable things to his body and mind. The image of Kimishita appeared in his head, sitting in his room and holding his phone to his ear and smiling this low, gentle smile that always sent Ooshiba’s mind reeling and his heart skipping beats. _I made him laugh,_ he thought proudly. _I made him happy._

“Kimishita...” he said quietly, blushing even as the words spilled out as if it was the most natural thing to say. “I love you.”

“I know that, idiot.” Kimishita’s voice changed, and even through the phone Ooshiba could tell he was blushing too. “I... love you too, Kiichi.”

A giant smile spread over Ooshiba’s face. His heart was fluttering, his body warm and tingling with joy. Would he ever get used to hearing Kimishita say it? He wasn’t sure he wanted to. These words made him so happy. He still couldn’t believe all of this was real.

Rolling over, he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. Kimishita would probably snap at him for getting so stupidly happy, but he couldn’t help it. It was all too good to be true.

 _Act natural,_ he told himself. Taking a deep breath, he shrank the giant goofy grin down to a light smile as he traced the pattern of the pillowcase. “Whatcha doing right now?”

“Nothing much.” Kimishita’s tone was quiet, thoughtful. “Already finished everything for today, but I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Ah, what a pain.” He clicked his tongue. “Suddenly having free time again is so troublesome.”

Ooshiba paused. On the surface Kimishita just seemed bored and a little irritated, but Ooshiba didn’t miss the hint of tension in his voice that didn’t stem from annoyance. “Restless?” he asked softly.

“...yeah.” Kimishita sounded caught, embarrassed but resigned, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Can’t seem to calm down after Pops called me earlier. He sounded optimistic, but...” He took a deep breath. “The surgery he needs is still new and rare as fuck. There are no statistics or success rates. I have no idea how good his chances are. It’s his only chance, but it might be slim. And if it goes wrong...” He paused. “No one knows what could happen.”

Ooshiba swallowed. This sounded bad. Scary. And it was exactly the kind of situation Kimishita feared the most. No certainty, no security. Nothing to go by except hope and desperate optimism.

Well, at least that was something he was unbeatable at. He didn’t doubt for a second that one way or another, things would turn out okay.

“He’ll be fine,” he said with absolute conviction. “I know it.”

Kimishita scoffed. “You have nothing to go by, idiot.”

“I just feel it! He’s gonna be okay!”

Kimishita sighed quietly. Then he breathed a chuckle, and Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat. “You better be right,” he muttered. “Ah, damn it. We can only hope now, huh?”

“It’s my gut feeling! My gut feeling’s never wrong.” Ooshiba clenched his fists in a stubborn gesture. “I went to your mom ‘cause I had the gut feeling that she’d help you out and she did! And that was way more out there!”

Kimishita didn’t say anything. Then he started laughing, softly and quietly and full of warm, fond affection that made Ooshiba’s heart swell. “You really are an idiot. Your gut feeling will get you killed someday, you know?”

“As if!” Ooshiba tried to pout at the phone and failed, a silly grin spreading over his face along with the warm fuzzy feeling that he could never stop when he heard Kimishita laughing. “It’s way better than your weird stats and facts. Just trust me, douchebag!”

“You’ll fall for fake news with that attitude.” Kimishita scoffed, then he hesitated, almost as if he was gathering his courage to say something he’d rather not say out loud. “But...”

Ooshiba tensed up. “But?”

“I...” Kimishita mumbled, quiet and awkward and so embarrassed he seemed almost shy, “I feel calmer now.” He took a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. “Thank you, Kiichi.”

“I... uh...” Ooshiba almost dropped his phone, a glowing red blush spreading all over his face. Damn, Kimishita had caught him off guard. “Y-Y-You’re welcome,” he stuttered, hiding his flushed face in the pillow. Crap. Crap, his heart was spinning. He was startled and puzzled and overwhelmed and very happy at the same time. Would he ever get used to this? No, he didn’t want to. Maybe he should get used to Kimishita almost making his heart explode instead.

Kimishita was audibly smirking when he spoke again. “What’s the matter?” he teased. “Shouldn’t this be the point where you brag about how great you are?”

“Sh-Shut up!” Ooshiba grumbled, still blushing and pouting. “I didn’t expect you to actually thank me, you jerk! You never thank people for anything!”

“Wha–” For a second Kimishita seemed startled, then he sighed in defeat. “Well,” he muttered awkwardly. “Now that you mention it... you’re probably not wrong.”

“Told ya so,” Ooshiba said half smugly.

“Then...” Kimishita swallowed audibly and clicked his tongue again, impatient with himself. “Thanks, Kiichi. For everything.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“You... You’ve done so much. For Pops and me both. If you hadn’t run off like an idiot and gone to my mother and blackmailed me into talking to her... we’d probably be sitting on packed bags now. Now Pops has a chance at recovery again, and he called me all excited earlier and told me how happy he is to see Hanae-san again. I haven’t heard him this happy since the accident. And even before you went to get her...” Kimishita lowered his voice to a quiet, fond whisper. “Thanks for supporting me all this time. I owe you.”

 _And I’m dying over here._ Ooshiba clenched his hand into the blanket, forcing his swelling heart not to burst out of his chest. What was with Kimishita? He was being so honest today, so straightforward! Was this a one-time thing? Would he always be like this now?

“Kimishita,” he stammered, trying to get his words back, “I, uh... you...”

“Shut up, idiot.” Kimishita’s voice turned sharp again. “You’ve made me say some stupid things. Must be your influence.” He clicked his tongue. “Forget everything I said just now, I must’ve been delirious.”

“Nothing wrong with being nice, asshole!”

“There _is_ something wrong with saying sentimental bullshit!” Kimishita shot back. “That’s for you, not for me. I’m going to bed.”

Something inside Ooshiba relaxed. This was the Kimishita he knew so well. He was completely back to normal now; that had to mean he was okay again.

“Kimishita,” he said, “wait.”

Kimishita paused. “What?”

“I don’t wanna sleep yet. Let’s talk a little longer.”

\---

Kimishita gazed up at the sky, eyes roaming in the vast distances of unknown galaxies, quietly wandering over stars, planets and constellations. A cool night breeze breathed in through the open window, gently playing with his hair and caressing his skin. The world had gone quiet. The only noise was the chirping of the crickets outside.

Kiichi had fallen asleep, but Kimishita was still awake. The phone call had helped calm him down, but there were still a thousand things on his mind, bright and flashing and refusing to sleep. He turned around, glancing at the calendar hanging on the back wall. Not that he could read it in the dark. But he didn’t need to. He knew everything he needed already.

The twenty-first. That was only a week away. No, it was past midnight now. Less than a week.

A week until he knew if his father would be able to walk again. A week until both their fates were decided.

And it would be a school day, too. He’d have to skip class; there was no way he could sit at school with the knowledge that his father was undergoing a surgery whose results were completely uncertain, without anyone to talk to him before and without anyone to sit outside the surgery room and wait for results. What if something happened? He wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.

 _Should probably talk to my teachers,_ he thought. He didn’t like it, but he probably had no choice. Kimishita didn’t doubt that they’d let him take the day off; his grades were good, and not counting the mess after the finals, he hadn’t missed a day this semester. What bothered him way more were the questions people would ask.

Should he tell the team? He didn’t want to. He could just feed them a lie and say he was sick, at the risk that they might turn up on his doorstep again with cold medicine and worried faces. They’d find closed doors and worry even more. But that wouldn’t be a problem. He could always tell them he needed a lot of personal space when he was sick.

But that would just make them worry too much. If they thought he was home alone, they would definitely do something stupid, and if they found the door locked he wouldn’t consider it below them to break into the house. Especially since they all knew how sick Kimishita had to be to not go to school.

And besides, they already knew about his father’s condition. They knew he was injured and needed a surgery; all that would be new to them was the date. Should he just tell them and be done with it? Perhaps he didn’t like it, but it seemed like the easiest option.

...And if they tried to go with him?

Kimishita shook his head. Those idiots might try it, but the school still had teachers and the team had Coach Nakazawa to stop them. There was no way they’d let the entire Seiseki soccer team ditch class or practice for anything. Still, it might probably be better to tell them as late as possible; maybe he should just text them on the day itself.

That was how he’d do it. It was the least troublesome option. He just hoped Kiichi would be okay with him telling them at the last minute.

_Kiichi..._

No, he wouldn’t let Kiichi go with him this time. He’d get into trouble for skipping class. Neither of them could afford that kind of trouble right now.

Sighing, he walked back to the bed, crawling under the blanket. So much to think about. He just hoped Kiichi was right and everything really would turn out okay.

\---

Should she turn back?

Hanae’s hand rested on the door handle, hesitating. What was she doing here? She didn’t have an excuse for coming here today. The first time she had been here she had wanted to confront Sei and offer her help; the second time she had told him about Atsushi’s request; but today was different. Today she had come here for no reason at all.

What should she tell him? She had nothing to say. She just wanted to check up on her former husband, see if he was okay, make some awkward small talk and leave. Not that she even had any reason to be worried. It was a completely bizarre, irrational feeling that had brought her here, uncanny and nothing like her at all.

Sighing at her own hesitation, she knocked.

“Come in!” the familiar voice called from the room, and Hanae jolted. For a second she was tempted to say something about the wrong room and leave, but she didn’t. No use anyway. Sei knew her voice too well.

“It’s me,” she said, stepping inside, eyes resting on anything but the bed and the man resting inside. “Thought I might drop by since I happened to be in the area.” A lie. But he didn’t have to know that.

Sei, however, seemed to buy it, or at least he didn’t care if she was lying. “Good thing you were in the area, then,” he said with a laugh. “Lying in here all day does get a little lonely sometimes.”

 _Lonely._ She swallowed. For sixteen years she had avoided that word, avoided it like the plague, pretended it didn’t exist and definitely didn’t apply to her. And he just up and admitted it. That he was lonely.

_I’m jealous._

She didn’t say that. She just continued to gaze out through the window, wondering what to say.

“How are you doing?” she said at last.

“Never been better,” Sei replied, laughing and earning himself a tongue-click from Hanae. “Okay, okay. I have been better sometimes. Once or twice, maybe.”

“ _Sei..._ ”

“What? You’re just like Atsushi.” Hanae jolted at that, but Sei didn’t seem to notice. “When things are already bad you don’t have to make it worse by being gloomy, you know?”

“...Idiot.”

There was a long silence.

Hanae ran a hand through her hair, still avoiding Sei’s eyes. What was she doing here? She should leave. This was just getting awkward. She had already checked up on him and he seemed to be doing alright, so why wasn’t she leaving already?

“I...” Her voice came out hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “I should probably–”

“Hanae.”

She stopped in her tracks. For the first time today she looked up, meeting Sei’s brown eyes head-on.

“Why did you come here?”

There it was. The question she had been asking herself, the question she couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to answer. Not to herself, not to anyone. All she knew was that coming here had definitely been a mistake.

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sei’s voice was soft and gentle, so frustratingly understanding that she didn’t know what to do. “I’m always happy to see you. I’d just like to know... why are you here today? It’s not to deliver a message or something, is it?”

She turned away, hurrying towards the door. “That’s none of your business.”

But this idiot wouldn’t give up, not yet. “Why did you?” he asked again, hope shimmering in his voice, making the age-old guilt stir up in her heart. “Hanae?”

“I...” She swallowed hard. “I... don’t know.”

“That’s fair. It’s just, I’ve been wondering...” The hope in his voice was growing, and Hanae froze on the spot. She didn’t want to hear what he would say next. She knew. And she didn’t want to hear it. Her entire body was screaming to run, but her feet were glued to the ground, unable to move an inch.

“You know my feelings haven’t changed. I’ll get my hopes up if you keep visiting me like this. So I’ll ask you right now, to set everything straight.” Sei paused, and Hanae caught the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice. “Do we still have a chance?”

“...No.” It hurt her heart to say it, but it was the truth. She couldn’t help it. There was no other way. “I’m sorry, Sei. But I don’t even understand how you can forgive me enough to say all that at all. You should hate me!” Her voice threatened to crack, and she swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I can’t allow myself to just go back to you and pretend things are fine after everything I’ve done. And what about Atsushi? He still hates me. You’d have to choose between us, do you want that? And Atsushi deserves you more than I do!”

“But–”

“No buts. You can’t change my mind.” She turned around, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red her eyes were. “You can’t put us all three together and pretend we’re a family, Sei. We all know that’d be a lie.”

Sei looked at her for a long moment. Then he dropped his gaze, cracking a resigned smile. “Got it. I won’t force you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up on this dream. For now...” He looked up again, his expression lighting up with renewed optimism. “We can stay friends, can’t we?”

“Friends...” Hanae hesitated, trying to resist. The suggestion was tempting, but she could easily be walking into a trap. She might get hurt. The best idea would be to cut off all contact and–

–and be left wondering what had become of them and what would have happened if she had stayed. Again.

“Friends, huh.” She cracked a dry smile. “Well, I guess I can drop by and say hello every once in a while.”

“That’s a start!” Sei replied, laughing. “Friends it is, then. And you know...” He turned serious, his laugh fading into a light smile. “If you ever happen to change your mind about us, just know I’ll always be ready to say it again. The same thing I said back then... the thing I promised to tell you again when you left.”

Hanae cracked a sad smile. She knew exactly what line he meant.

_Hayami-san, I'm in love with you! Will you go out with me?_

Blinking back the memory, she scoffed. “Slim chance.”

\---

_I’m calm. It will be all right. No need to worry. I’m calm._

Kimishita closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Damn it, he wasn’t calm at all. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking. He felt hot and cold at the same time, his pulse thudding in his ears and reverberating in his head.

_Calm down. It’ll be fine._

Clenching his fists, he stepped into the hospital building, navigating through the unfamiliar corridors. He knew taking his father to a different hospital for the surgery had been necessary, but right now he cursed it. Where was he? Where was his father? Was he on the right way? Damn this godforsaken building where no one could find anything!

Kimishita stopped at a sign, ran up a flight of stairs, stumbled around a corner. Where was this place? It had to be here, right?

Eyes scanning over the room numbers, he walked down the corridor, his entire body tense. Not the one. Still not the one. Still–

No, wait. This was the right one.

Straightening his back and hoping that his nervousness wasn’t showing, he knocked and stepped inside.

His father greeted him with a smile, looking a little sleepy but otherwise fine and almost terrifyingly calm. He looked so calm Kimishita couldn’t believe he was just about to undergo a surgery whose results were completely uncertain and there was no knowing in what state he would wake up, if he did at all. If a mistake happened, a miscalculation... if a dose of something was too strong... if something was damaged...

_Don’t think about it._

“Morning, Pops,” he said casually. At least he hoped he sounded casual. If he was honest with himself, he probably didn’t.

“Good morning, Atsushi. Shouldn’t you be at school right now?” Kimishita stared at him in open shock and his father laughed, extending a hand to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry, I’m happy you’re here. Seeing you makes me feel like everything will be fine.”

Kimishita avoided his gaze. “Not worried?”

“Not really,” he said lightly, letting his hand drop back down to reach for Kimishita’s, squeezing it gently. “Don’t have much to lose now, do I?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Beats me. I’m not a doctor.”

“But I do hope the people performing the surgery are.” Seeing Kimishita’s glare, his father laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I really shouldn’t make you worry any more than you already do. I’m sure these people know what they’re doing!”

Kimishita glared at the ground, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I’m not worried–”

“Of course you are. You’re a good kid.” His father smiled as Kimishita blinked at him in surprise. “Or maybe I should say you’re a good _man_ , now that you’re eighteen. One way or another, I’m proud to call you my son.”

“Don’t say such cheesy things, Pops.” Kimishita glanced down, torn between worry and gratitude. “Characters who say that shit in movies always die.”

“Uh-oh, bad word! You shouldn’t say ‘movies’ in public, Atsushi,” his father said with a wink. “Nobody’s dying here. This isn’t a movie, you know?”

“Yeah.” Kimishita nodded to himself, repeating the words over and over and over until he had internalized them, until the irrational fears in his head backed away and crawled into a hole to hide. “Yeah, I know.”

“See? So don’t worry about me. I’ll wake up this evening and feel drowsy for some time and then I’ll start recovering. Right, Atsushi?”

Kimishita nodded. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word his father yawned, visibly struggling to keep his eyes open. “Ah, I’m falling asleep... Must be almost time, huh?”

“Probably.” Kimishita glanced at the clock without actually reading the time. “So, Pops...”

“Yeah?”

Kimishita swallowed, leaning down to give his father an awkward one-armed hug. “Love you. Good luck in there.”

“Thanks, even if I don’t think I’ll need it.” His father patted his head and almost missed, eyes already closed, his voice growing drowsy as he drifted off. “Love you too, my grown-up little boy. Don’t worry too much.”

And with that he fell asleep, his breathing evening out as his hand slipped down to dangle over the edge of the mattress. A faint smile was still tugging at his lips, and Kimishita tried to smile back. His face wouldn’t respond. His chest felt tight. He picked up his father’s hand and held it in a firm grip, unmoving until they took him away to the operating room.

\---

Time had stopped.

Kimishita looked at the clock, only to find that it had barely moved a minute since the last time he checked. Apparently he had only been sitting here for about twenty minutes. That couldn’t be. It felt like hours.

It was dragging on. Dragging on for eternities. Nothing happened. There were no news. Of course not. There wouldn’t be any news for hours.

Hours... That would feel like eternities.

What should he do? Should he stay here and slowly watch himself lose his mind? Should he go outside for some fresh air? Go home? But there was nothing he could do at home. He’d still sit around somewhere unable to focus, and on top of that he would worry even more, worry that something might happen and he wouldn’t be around.

 _It’s all good,_ he tried to tell himself. Pops was optimistic. _The doctors seemed calm too. There’s no reason to worry._

Sighing quietly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Since he was already sitting here, might as well text the team and tell them where he was. It would only kill a few minutes, but it was better than nothing.

He unlocked the screen and the first thing he saw was a message from Kiichi.

_WHERE TF ARE U_

Kimishita grimaced. This idiot... Had he seriously forgotten what was today? Or... was this what he feared it was?

 _Hospital,_ he texted back impatiently. _Remember, you imbecile?_

The reply was almost immediate. _I KNOW TAHT BT WHERE_

 _Oh, this is exactly what I thought it was._ Kimishita clicked his tongue. This idiot. He had really skipped class to try and accompany him? He was completely ridiculous.

 _Give it up,_ he wrote back. _You should be in class, moron!_

_ASSHOLE! u think i can sitin c lass rn? LIKE HELL I CAN_

He should have known.

Kimishita knew he should send Kiichi back. His vice-captain was skipping class, and he would get in serious trouble for it from more than one side. He might get problems with his teachers, and his parents and sister might get angry too; he might even end up grounded. Kiichi should really go back to school and hope the classes he had skipped so far weren’t too much of a problem.

And yet Kimishita hesitated. He understood Kiichi’s feelings. If it had been him he would have felt the same. And having Kiichi here with him, someone to kill time with, someone to calm him down when his worry spiked up again... it was tempting, too tempting. To his nervous, troubled mind the thought felt irresistible.

Damn it all. He couldn’t resist. If Kiichi got in trouble he’d just speak in his defense. For now he didn’t care about consequences. He needed Kiichi here.

 _They took him to a different hospital for the surgery,_ he texted. _Hold on I’ll send you the place._

He followed it up with a description of the address and location and waited for Kiichi’s response. He didn’t have to wait long. Another hurried reply popped up on the screen, carrying a book’s worth of meaning in a few short words. _5 mins!_

Kimishita shook his head, knowing Kiichi couldn’t possibly show up here that fast. Still, at the same time, he felt more at ease. Just knowing he wouldn’t have to spend all those hours here alone made him feel leagues better.

Leaning back in his chair, he opened the group chat and started composing a message to the team.

\---

It didn’t take long for the familiar footsteps to come sprinting down the hallway, the same footsteps Kimishita could recognize from a million, the footsteps that always reassured him that everything would be all right, that Kiichi was here now and whatever was going to happen, they would face it together. He didn’t even have to wait for the voice that called out his name to know exactly what he had to answer.

“You’re late,” he said, rising from his chair. “That was more than five minutes.”

Kiichi didn’t snap a comeback. He didn’t even look annoyed. He just closed the distance between them and pulled Kimishita into a tight embrace.

“Dumbass,” he said quietly, holding him close, pressing him against his chest as if he was afraid to lose him if he let go. “You think you can just tell me the date and time and then go off here on your own? Trust me already, dammit! We talked about this!”

Kimishita closed his eyes, returning the hug and hiding his face in Kiichi’s shirt, inhaling the familiar scent in deep breaths. “Sorry,” he said, tightening his hold on Kiichi’s back. “Didn’t want you to get in trouble for skipping class.”

“Like I care about that,” Kiichi mumbled with a pout. “You’re more important.”

Kimishita felt his face heat up. “And you’re ridiculous.”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He just continued to hold him close, fingers tracing little patterns on his back, nose buried in Kimishita’s hair. Kimishita melted into him, closing his eyes and listening to the steady pounding of Kiichi’s heart. He felt better already. Letting Kiichi come here had been the right choice. He was glad he had remembered his lesson in time, the very lesson Kiichi had taught him. In a tough spot it simply felt better to not be alone.

At long last Kimishita pulled away, stepping back to his chair and motioning Kiichi to the one next to him. “Let’s sit down. This will take some time.”

Kiichi sat beside him and instinctively reached for Kimishita’s hand, holding and squeezing it gently. Kimishita glanced up at him, looking confused and more annoyed than he actually felt. “What are you doing, idiot?”

“Dunno.” Kiichi blushed, averting his gaze. “Want me to stop?”

“...no.”

“Okay.”

They sat side by side in silence, gazing ahead, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally Kimishita spoke up again, more to break the silence than out of actual curiosity.

“How did you get here?” He glanced at Kiichi’s school uniform. “Did you sneak out of class, or did you just put this on so your parents wouldn’t suspect you?”

“Yeah. My folks think I’m at school, but I never went there today. I called in sick earlier.” Kiichi smiled smugly. “Nobody suspects a thing. I’m a genius.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Kimishita shot back with a pointed look. “It’s only a matter of time before the lie comes out. But when it does...” He averted his gaze, blushing. “I’ll defend you,” he mumbled.

Kiichi gave him a look that was definitely too shiny-eyed for Kimishita’s tastes.

“What?” he snapped, blush deepening. “They can’t blame you for being so stupidly loyal is all! Don’t think I approve of your stunt!”

“Shut up, asshole! If you don’t want me to be here, I can always go home!”

“No.” The word came out more urgent and pleading than Kimishita wanted, his grip on Kiichi’s hand tightening. “No... don’t. It’s fine.” He looked down at his feet, his face glowing bright red. “I’m... glad you’re here, Kiichi.”

Kiichi turned away, his thumb stroking the back of Kimishita’s hand. His ears were red enough to rival his hair. “You’re not fair,” he grumbled in the opposite direction. “Acting nice out of the blue...”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion, idiot!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Sometimes it’s just less troublesome to be honest. Get used to it, moron.”

“Dickhead.”

“Imbecile.”

“Jerk.”

Kimishita chuckled. He couldn’t believe he had relaxed so much, falling into the old, comfortable pattern of volleying insults with Kiichi even in this tense situation. His heart felt like a huge weight had fallen off it. Everything would be fine. This time it wasn’t a frantic mantra, it was certainty. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He could survive all the hours of waiting without losing his mind. And it was all because Kiichi was here, holding his hand and bickering with him and being there for him when he couldn’t be alone.

Smiling softly, he looked up, meeting Kiichi’s bright gaze and taking in the worry and compassion mirrored in the turquoise. “Kiichi,” he said softly, without hesitation. “I love you.”

Kiichi blinked at him. His mouth dropped open. He blinked once, twice, thrice. Then he blushed redder than an army of cherry tomatoes.

“Wha– You– What? I mean–” His gaze was all over the place, his words coming out in panicked stutters. “I– uh– I l-l-l-love you too!”

Kimishita blushed too, throwing a mock punch at Kiichi’s head in annoyance. “What’s that blushing and stuttering for, you’re not a fucking maiden!” He clicked his tongue. “You said it a hundred times before, what’s wrong with you?”

“Sh-Shut up! You never say it first.” Kiichi’s head was turned away, but even the back of his neck was bright red. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Kimishita sighed, then he chuckled to himself. Frantic flustered Kiichi was rather cute, now that he thought about it. And he did have a point about Kimishita never voicing his feelings first. Perhaps he should do it more often in the future. Just often enough to keep producing such adorable results.

They continued to sit side by side, talking little but taking comfort in each other’s company, their hands laced together between the chairs. Kimishita glanced at the clock. Almost an hour had passed since Kiichi’s arrival. It had felt like minutes.

Following a sudden thought he pulled his phone out of his pocket, just to check his messages. There probably were none yet. Everyone should be in class–

The group chat had dozens of messages.

Kimishita grimaced and looked at the clock again. Lunch break. Of course. How had he forgotten?

Frowning, he scrolled through the messages, eyes skimming over them, one by one. They were from almost everyone on the team, and they all said more or less the same thing.

_Thank you for telling us, Kimishita-senpai! I hope everything will be okay!_

_Best wishes, Captain. We’re thinking of you._

_GL cap! U’ll be in our thoughts :)_

_Good luck, Kimishita! Sending waves of support!_

_I’m sure it’ll be fine!_

_Were rooting for u!_

Kimishita kept scrolling. Everyone... everyone. There were countless messages from the whole team, all supporting him, wishing him luck. It was embarrassing... but his heart felt so warm. They truly cared about him. Being worried about was still embarrassing, but right now it also made him feel so much better. It had been right to tell him.

Smiling with gratitude, he tapped the keyboard and wrote another quick message. _Thank you, Seiseki._

Kiichi glanced over his shoulder. “Something good happen?”

Kimishita turned to smile at him as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “They’re a good team.”

Kiichi nodded smugly. “Yup. Not our team for nothing.”

Kimishita felt half tempted to make a mocking remark, but he let it be. The sleepless night he had spent tossing and turning and worrying was finally catching up to him. Stifling a yawn, he leaned to the side, resting his head against Kiichi’s shoulder.

Just closing his eyes for a second. He could allow himself that much.

\---

It was already getting darker when the door opened and a doctor stepped out, looking exhausted but relieved. “Everything went well,” he started to say. “He’s now resting in the–”

Ooshiba put a finger to his lips, silencing him. Giving him a serious glance, he pointed to Kimishita still leaning against his side, fast asleep. “Shh.”

The doctor seemed surprised, then he understood, smiling as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ll wake him when his father wakes up.”

\---

“Hey, you sure it’s okay?”

Kimishita sighed, turning around to glare at Kiichi hiding behind the half-closed door. “As I said before,” he hissed with mild annoyance, “it’s perfectly fine. Pops likes you. What happened to all your overblown confidence, huh?”

Kiichi didn’t look convinced. “Of course I’m an awesome boyfriend,” he said in a tone that wasn’t as certain as he probably hoped, “but you sure your dad doesn’t have a problem with you having a boyfriend in the first place?”

“I doubt it. He’s not that kind of person. Stop acting like a groom about to ask his future father-in-law for his daughter’s hand.” Clicking his tongue, Kimishita stepped through the door. “Pops, I’m coming in!”

“Sure!” His father greeted him with a bright smile. “How is my favorite son doing?”

“Well enough,” Kimishita replied, rolling his eyes at the corny joke. “More importantly, how are you?”

“Good as new. I can feel myself recovering with every new day!” His father flexed his arm for emphasis, grinning. “The doctors said I should be able to walk again fine eventually. Man, we sure lucked out! Didn’t we, son?”

“Yeah, probably.” Kimishita breathed a sigh of relief. “But actually, Pops... that’s not the only reason why I’m here.” He turned over his shoulder. “Kiichi, come in!”

Kiichi stepped inside, knocking against the doorframe on the way in. He looked misplaced and very awkward, and Kimishita hoped his face didn’t show that he was feeling a little nervous too.

His father seemed happily oblivious. “Oh, Ooshiba-kun!” he greeted him, beaming. “What a pleasant surprise! It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah.” Kimishita swallowed and adjusted his shirt for no reason. “I guess it’s time to introduce you properly.” Stepping to Kiichi’s side, he took his hand and laced their fingers together.

“I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.”


	25. Epilogue

Kimishita was snapped out of his studies by a loud beep.

“Shut up,” he growled at the microwave as he continued scribbling in his notebook. He should probably get up and grab his food before it got cold again and he had to microwave it a second time, but first he should finish writing down this sentence. And maybe the whole paragraph since he was at it. Then he could easily take a break and eat before going back to studying.

Looking back down at his textbook, he finished writing down his notes before putting his pencil aside and rising from his chair. A quick glance at the clock revealed that Kiichi wouldn’t be home for at least half an hour; not much, but for today it was all the time Kimishita needed. He enjoyed having the house to himself and being able to study in peace; college wasn’t exactly getting easier, and ever since he had started his last year it had become even more stressful, with deadlines and exams constantly hanging over his head. One couldn’t really blame him for getting so immersed in his studies that he forgot about everything else.

_Well, at least this time I didn’t completely forget to eat,_ he mused as he made his way over to the kitchen. _Kiichi would’ve yelled at me if I had._ He chuckled to himself. As if one skipped meal would kill him. They should both know that he could handle much worse.

Smiling quietly to himself, he took out his food, reached for his chopsticks and started eating, not bothering to sit down. His hunger surged up with the first bite. He really had been starving, studying way past lunchtime without even realizing it, and it wasn’t till now that his focus faded and his mind finally paid attention to the demands of his body. Perhaps Kiichi did have a point. He should start setting himself an alarm or something, or someday he might get so immersed in his study session that he accidentally starved himself to death.

Well, not that Kiichi would ever allow it. He and Kiichi had been a couple for five years now and living together for a little over four, and sometimes Kimishita was still amazed how well they worked together, how natural it felt to come home to a giant red-headed idiot lounging on the couch, complaining about practice and asking about his day. If somebody had told his middle school self that they’d ever end up like an embarrassing married couple, he would have called them delusional. Now it seemed delusional to think they could ever live apart from each other again.

Kimishita set down his empty bowl, debating if he should wash it or get seconds. His stomach was asking for seconds, but a look at the clock told him that if he ate any more right now he wouldn’t be hungry for dinner. Washing up it was.

He finished drying the bowl and set it back on the cupboard, ready to return to his textbooks and notes when the sound of a key being turned caught his attention. Moments later a set of footsteps stumbled inside, shoes clattered over the floor as they were carelessly kicked off, and the door slammed shut again with a heavy boom. A familiar voice greeted him, more groaning than anything else. “I’m home...”

“Welcome home,” Kimishita shouted back across the apartment, sitting back down at his desk. “You’re early.”

Footsteps dragged past him, heavy and exhausted, and a second later there was a telltale whump from the couch, which complained about the sudden weight with a slight creak. A startled meow responded, and Kimishita could hear Kiichi grumbling something unintelligible, presumably an annoyed reply. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Hey, don’t bully the cat,” Kimishita remarked, getting up and walking into the living room. “She was quiet all day before you showed up.”

Kiichi lay sprawled out on the couch, feet dangling over the edge on one side, head propped up against the other. Sitting on his chest, letting him pet her with the long-suffering expression of a generous donor and probably shedding all over his jersey, was Blob. Blob’s real name was Luna – or rather, it had been back when she was still small and cute. Kimishita could still remember the fateful day two years ago when Kiichi had come home with a stray kitten in his hands and a bad case of puppy-dog eyes; Kimishita had snapped at him to take it back until Kiichi pushed the small gray bundle of fur in his face and his heart melted at the sight of the small, soft, helpless thing.

That had been two years ago. During those two years the small gray bundle of fur had grown up into a very large, very fluffy, shedding, constantly hungry bundle of fur until they had both started calling her nothing but Blob. The tiny kitten from back then had grown into a lazy, fat, useless creature whose main hobbies included sleeping in inconvenient places and meowing her humans out of bed at three in the morning. Kimishita loved her to bits.

“Atsushi, help me, I’m dying,” Kiichi whined from behind the cat’s fur. “Our new coach is a demon.”

Kimishita leaned over the backrest, torn between pitying and mocking him. “Is practice really that though or are you just a wimp?”

“Who are you calling a wimp? Practice is hell!” Kiichi groaned dramatically. “I don’t think there’s a part in my body that doesn’t hurt.”

Kimishita snorted. “Your mouth seems to be fine, apparently.”

Kiichi blinked at him for a second, processing the remark before it clicked and he glared up at him in embarrassment. “Just ‘cause I’m still talking? Don’t jump to conclusions, asshole!” He tried to throw a punch at Kimishita’s face and quickly pulled his arm back with a wince. “I’m a hero, I keep going even though I’m in pain– _ow!_ ”

“Sure.” Kimishita grinned smugly. “Hero, my ass.”

Kiichi pouted up at him. “Hey, I’m your boyfriend and I’m beat! Pity me, heartless bastard!”

Kimishita felt sorely tempted to make a snide remark, but Kiichi’s accusing pout was too cute to resist. Still grinning, he reached down to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair, enjoying the way he closed his eyes like a happy kitten. If he kept acting like this he’d start purring soon.

“Looks like you still need to work on your stamina,” he remarked quietly, earning himself an annoyed huff from Kiichi. “Good job hanging in there though. You did well.”

Kiichi beamed and melted into his hand, radiating warm happiness as if someone had let a boyfriend-sized sun onto the couch. Kimishita smiled affectionately. Damn, he was cute. It really should be illegal for a guy his size to be this blatantly adorable, and he was still every bit as cute at twenty-two as he had been at seventeen. If anything he was cuter. Life wasn’t fair.

Sighing, Kimishita traced his fingers over Kiichi’s cheekbones and jawline, watching as his boyfriend tilted his head to meet the touch. “You sure like getting spoiled, huh.”

“And you like spoiling me.”

“On the rare occasions when you’re not being an insufferable ass,” Kimishita shot back, only half serious. “Sometimes I wonder why I even fell for an idiot like you.”

Kiichi smirked. “I thought you said you like idiots.”

“I never said that.”

“Did too!”

“You heard that wrong!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, blushing ever so slightly. “If I ever said such a thing, it must have been sarcasm. Not that you’d notice because you have the IQ of a pile of bricks.”

“Hey!”

Kiichi tried to throw another mock punch at Kimishita and pulled back again, groaning and wincing. Blob shifted on his chest, startled by the sudden movement, moved a few inches, yawned, and stretched herself out to sleep, a giant armful of cat taking up all of Kiichi’s chest and half his stomach.

Kiichi slumped back too, closing his eyes. “Now I can’t move till she wakes up,” he muttered with a lion-sized yawn. “I’m staying here till tomorrow.”

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita sighed, giving his boyfriend and cat a judging look. “Teaming up on me now, you two lazy asses?”

“Who you calling a lazy ass! I’m tired!”

“Between you and Blob, I can’t say which one’s lazier!”

Kiichi and the cat both simultaneously looked up, giving him an offended glare. He scoffed. “What did they say about pets starting to resemble their owners?”

“Then she’s lucky she didn’t turn into an antisocial salty nerd!” Kiichi huffed, closing his eyes again. Groaning quietly, he adjusted himself against the couch and stretched as best as he could with a cat sleeping on top of him. “Atsushi, join us.”

Kimishita looked him up and down and frowned. “Doesn’t look like there’s much room for me.”

Kiichi patted his thigh. “Sit here.”

“Says the one who complained about his leg falling asleep last time.”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up, asshole!”

“...Fine. But don’t complain again this time.” Sighing, Kimishita made his way around the couch and sat down on Kiichi’s legs, leaning against the backrest. It was a little cramped, and it wasn’t the most comfortable position to sit, but it did feel nice, sharing the couch with his strange little family and relaxing after a day of hard work. “How’s the team?”

“Good.” Kiichi didn’t open his eyes. “Our midfielder still sucks. Nice guy, but compared to you he’s shit.” He pouted. “Still think you should’ve gone pro. You would’ve been way better!”

“And I keep telling you to stop comparing all your midfielders to me,” Kimishita shot back. “I can’t be as great as you idiot seem to think.” Kiichi opened his mouth to protest, but Kimishita raised his hand, silencing him. “You just think that because we understand each other so well... ah, what a pain. Why am I telling you this? We’ve had this bullshit discussion before.” He clicked his tongue. “Soccer alone wouldn’t have been enough for me, Kiichi. I need something else to keep my brain occupied. As you should know.”

Kiichi sulked like a child scolded for the same thing over and over again. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I made my choice, Kiichi.” Kimishita’s voice softened. “No need to complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining,” Kiichi grumbled, picking up a protesting Blob and burying his nose in her fur. “I just think you would’ve been better than our shitty midfielder. You make way better passes! And did better free kicks in high school!”

Kimishita grimaced. “I just hope you’re not telling him that.”

“It’s the truth!” Kiichi burst out, and Kimishita took that as an obvious yes. “I tell everyone how much better you are! The guys keep asking about ya.” He set Blob down on the floor, where she turned away with an indignant meow. “They all wanna meet my roommate, when are you ever gonna keep your promise and visit me at practice?”

Kimishita groaned. True, this was something he had promised ages ago; a promise he still hadn’t kept, to his own embarrassment and shame. It wasn’t like him to put off things like that, but Kiichi must have been bragging about him so much that his first meeting with the team was bound to be incredibly awkward. He’d rather avoid that embarrassment for as long as he could.

But he didn’t say that. “I don’t know,” he grumbled instead, “maybe when I’m not drowning in deadlines for a change.”

Kiichi looked disappointed. “When are you ever not drowning in deadlines? That’s not gonna happen before you graduate!” He placed a hand on Kimishita’s knee. “Give yourself a break, moron. We talked about this!”

Well... he did have a point. Kimishita didn’t have to study as much as he did now, technically. He had already memorized most of the important and exam-relevant material for the time being, and he was far enough ahead with all his deadlines too; there was no problem with him taking an afternoon off to visit his boyfriend at soccer practice. Aside from the looming embarrassment, that is.

Stretching, he lay down on top of Kiichi, head resting on his chest. “Well,” he mumbled, “guess a few more breaks won’t hurt once in a while.”

“Yup.” Kiichi nodded smugly. “That’s the attitude.”

They rested like that for awhile, Kimishita closing his eyes and listening to Kiichi’s heartbeat, Kiichi tangling his fingers in Kimishita’s hair. “Hey,” he muttered at last, “you gonna get a haircut anytime soon?”

Kimishita felt the tips of his hair. It had grown longer again, reaching past his shoulders now, and honestly he didn’t really mind; it looked surprisingly good on him, and it wasn’t as messy and wavy and untamable as his shorter hair had been. “Nah,” he replied, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Should I?”

“No!” Kiichi burst out with surprising energy. “N-No, you shouldn’t,” he grumbled awkwardly, trying and failing to cover up for his sudden outburst. “You look... I mean... your hair... you with longer hair...” Kimishita didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing. “I, uh... kinda like it.”

Still not opening his eyes, Kimishita smirked. “Maybe I should grow it out more since you like it that much. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you so flustered.”

“You wanna fight, pretty boy?”

Kimishita simply opened his eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Kiichi blushed even redder. Kimishita smirked mischievously. “You sure like it, huh,” he teased. “Should’ve told me sooner. Were you really thinking you could hide it from me?”

“Shut up! I just noticed how long it got,” Kiichi mumbled, turning away. “And well, I, uh... with this hair... you look pretty.”

Kimishita chuckled. “Romantic compliments will never be your strong suit, huh.”

“Says the asshole who never compliments me!”

“It’s unnecessary.” Kimishita closed his eyes. “You already know what I think of you.”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He just reached up and wrapped his arms around Kimishita’s back, holding him gently as they both simply enjoyed the other’s presence, relaxing their bodies and minds from a long, stressful day. Kimishita melted into him. He already felt refreshed. Kiichi had that effect on him; no matter how long or tiring or hectic his day had been, a few minutes of talking to his boyfriend were all he needed to calm down once more.

Kiichi tangled a hand in his hair again, absent-mindedly playing with the long dark strands. “How was your day?”

“Lot of work,” Kimishita replied, replaying it in his memories. “One of my lectures got canceled so I got home early, but I spent the rest studying. Exams coming up.” _And I almost forgot to eat lunch again,_ he added in his head. “Also, Pops called. He’s asking if we want to visit again sometime.”

“Sure,” Kiichi said instantly. “The season’s almost over. I’m free after it ends.”

Kimishita smiled. “Thought you’d say that. Pops said the same. He’s watching all your matches, by the way. Brags about knowing you to the neighbors.”

“Still does? Your dad’s a great guy.” Kiichi sounded an awful lot like his ego had grown too much from that remark, but Kimishita let it slide. “By the way, Atsushi...”

Kimishita opened his eyes. Kiichi’s voice had changed. He sounded like there was something serious on his mind, something important he wasn’t sure how to go about. “Are we ever, like...” He fidgeted awkwardly. “Y’know... tell the team? About us?”

Oh, _that_. Kimishita frowned. The topic had come up between them once or twice, and he didn’t like it much. “I’d rather not,” he said sharply. “We talked about this before, idiot. It’ll come out to the public and then you can forget about rising in the ranks. The soccer world is still homophobic as shit. Do you really want to put your career in jeopardy for _that?_ ”

“But... but it’s who I am!” Kiichi protested. “I can’t just keep hiding that forever, Atsushi. I want people to know who I love!”

“Then tell them at the end of your career. Or just tell a few teammates you trust.” Kimishita sighed. “But not everyone on the team. Someone will tell the press.”

“But–”

“Someone. Will. Tell. The press.” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Just a select few. Do you understand, Kiichi?”

Kiichi fell silent for a moment. Then suddenly his face lit up, and he smiled that smug smile that always indicated he’d just had an awful idea. “Then,” he said, “visit me at practice and help me tell who’s trustworthy.”

Oh, that cunning bastard. So this was the trick he was using now, was it? Kimishita wanted to punch him. But at the same time he wasn’t really mad; he understood Kiichi’s desire to share this with a few people. Hiding his feelings had never been Kiichi’s nature, after all.

“All right,” he grumbled, turning his head away. “Tell me a good time for you and I’ll tag along sometime. But just once, do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kiichi tried to sound annoyed, but the giant smile on his face betrayed him. Kimishita smiled back. This idiot. He was way too happy about this, and the most annoying thing was that his happiness was contagious. Now even Kimishita couldn’t help feeling a little excited about meeting the team, although part of him was still dreading their reactions.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed into Kiichi again, feeling his boyfriend’s hands tangling in his hair, soft and gentle. Underneath him Kiichi’s breath evened out, his heartbeat slowing down. He had fallen asleep, and Kimishita knew he should wake him up. It was almost time for dinner, and they were being lazy and useless and wasting their time.

Later. For now he wouldn’t mind dozing off a little. Kiichi was right, after all.

Sometimes they both really did deserve to take a long, long break. The world might be hectic. Soon they’d both have to go back to their busy, stressful lives. But not right now.

Right now they were calm, they were together, and they had all the time in the world.


End file.
